EVA Sessions: Someplace Vast and Dry
by Gob Hobblin
Summary: In 2015, something happened in Antarctica that changed the course of human events. From that point on, the lives of a small group of scientists and their children will become entwined in a war for survival, and a search that could lead to humanity's salvation...or destruction.
1. Introduction and Excuses

**Notes from Gob Hobblin**: A quick explanation, first. Bear with me.

I haven't hit a writer's block with my other three stories _parse_, but I have hit an awkward patch in writing them at this time, both because of educational obligations I am under right now and an impending Annual Training on my horizon…which is also my first. Hoah.

This has made things of a military nature a bit more pressing in my worldview of the moment, as you can imagine.

So, I'm taking a kind-of, sort-of, not-really slight detour from the other three posted stories to put up something a bit more like the military sci-fi I grew up with, which means a little less in-depth and a bit more...I guess quick and sloppy would be the idea, but not in a bad way. At least, that's not the goal.

Just something easier to kick out when I can't think of more existential and philosophical conundrums to encourage you _kind_ folks to question my grasp on reality. I plan on updating the other stories very soon (Sunday is in the cards), but I wanted to get this out and up to tide you over until then. Between the this and the other three EVA stories I have up now, plus the FMA one I'm kicking out elsewhere, I think I should get into a nice, easy rotation of updates that won't force you all to keep waiting. Thanks again for all your reviews and continuing to keep up on my updates. I won't let you guys down, and I'll keep the posts coming as I am able.

Keep on rocking in the free world, friends.


	2. The Day of BeWithUs

**December 24, 2015 - Dome Fuji Research Station, Antarctica**

"Merry Christmas!"

Dr. Yui Ikari draped a lei made of rolled tubes of computer print-out over the neck of her husband as he hunched over his console. He blinked in surprise, and looked at his wife in confusion. "Christmas is tomorrow…" he mumbled, bleary eyed from staring at the computer screen.

"Close enough," she said, pecking him on the cheek.

"Oh…" he replied, lost somewhere between surprise and wonder. They had been married for a year now, and she still seemed a vast mystery to him. At times, it was frightening, but the scientist part of Gendo Ikari was also the sum of the man. Mystery was why his life had meaning, purpose. That transposed onto Yui Ikari, in some ways more than others.

"Smile some more, it makes you handsome," she grumped, sliding away. She looked tiny in her parka, more of the improvised leis on her arm.

"Did you make all of those?" he asked, somewhat distressed. This was, after all, Antarctica—paper was something of a rare commodity down here.

"No, me and Naoko buddied up on it. We've also got Shinji's little girl conscripted to assist in spreading joy and cheer." She tossed another lei at him, as if this would somehow enhance 'joy and cheer.'

"It was a bad idea to bring a biologist along," he said, his face serious but clearly trying to make a joke. "You have all this free time and it makes you loopy."

She waggled a finger at him. "Flat delivery, poor timing, but you're doing better. That sense of humor is coming out, dear hubby." She skipped out of the control room. He picked up the extra lei, still drifting in her wake, and turned. There was one other occupant in the room, an intern named Sakura Doi who had a temperament a little shyer than a church mouse. She had watched the whole thing like a barn owl, her eyes wide.

"I'm the dear hubby," Gendo explained, tossing her the spare lei.

* * *

In the chilly halls of Dome Fuji Research Station, Yui passed Naoko Akagi on the way to spreading Christmas cheer. "All we need now is eggnog and booze," her friend sighed, down to two leis.

"I'd be happy with the eggnog," she grumbled. "We could always whip up something to make all of us tipsy. We are scientists, after all. Did I tell you moonshine was one of the first things I learned to make at Kyoto?"

"As a biologist?" Naoko asked, stealing some of Yui's extra leis.

"The chemistry kids who taught me didn't know," Yui said with a shrug. "Oh, Misato! You've finished another batch!" The skinny twelve year old was bounding down the hallway with an armful of Christmas spirit. If Yui looked tiny in her parka, Misato looked microscopic.

"This is all I can make, now," she said with a hint of a whine in her voice, "Dr. Suzuhara yelled at me about wasting computer paper."

"Then he doesn't get a lei," Naoko said with conviction. As she did, the loudspeakers crackled.

"Incoming transmission from Amundsen-Scott. Repeat, incoming transmission from Amundsen-Scott. All tier 1 personnel, report to room…"

Yui hurried back to the room where she had left Gendo, grabbing Misato's arm as she went. "Come on," she said with a grin, "that'll be your dad." Misato was dragged along.

"But I'm not supposed to be in there with tier 1 people!" she pleaded, before Naoko assisted in pushing the girl along. They entered the room as the varied personnel gathered at their consoles, lounged in the background. Yui borrowed a radio from one of the American scientists and switched to channel 44, which would be the biology lab.

"Harry," she asked in heavily accented English, "How the mice doing?"

"Chipper and perky," Dr. Zebulon replied, "No notable affect from the KL Particles, but I'll keep watching." The Katsuragi-Luthuli Affect was being measured in various bands across the southern ice cap of the world, all stemming from the disturbance above the geographic south pole. So far, the KL Particles had not been dangerous, or produced any known side affects. Considering the susceptibility of mice to changes in their environment, they were being used as a sort of 'canary' to define what KL Particles did on living tissue.

That made Yui glance at Misato. She wasn't going to go as far as saying KL Particles were _not_ dangerous, but she had no quantifiable evidence to indicate their potential harm. Still…having the wide-eyed girl present was enough to make the woman uneasy. It was a fair trade off, though, all things considered. Shinji was only able to see his daughter so much, and the possibility for the girl to accompany her father to the South Pole was too exciting for her and too evenly timed for him. Failure to bring her would have meant three years instead of one without seeing his daughter, and he was unhappy with that.

Of course, he was at Amundsen-Scott right now, and she was here. Gendo had spoken to Shinji (at Naoko's insistence to Yui, which became her insistence to Gendo) that having a twelve year old girl at the South Pole under the Phenomenon would be too much of a risk. He was disappointed, but agreed. So Shinji was there, and Misato was here, eagerly listening for her father's voice.

Naoko's concern for Misato was probably because she had a daughter of her own, Yui reasoned. It was easy to forget that Naoko was older than her, and had a fifteen year old girl back in Tokyo. She had a better sense of these things than Yui did.

"Dome Fuji, this is Amundsen-Scott. Dr. Ikari?" a voice crackled over the speakers. Gendo glanced at a technician, who placed a mike in front of him and patted him on the back, signaling that the radio was up.

"It's good to hear you, Shinji," Gendo said, "How is the flux?"

"The Phenomenon is stable and perfect," Dr. Katsuragi said, "You should really see this. We have eyes on, and the clouds have cleared up. It's almost like a moving heat mirage. We're video taping now…" his voice became distant as he spoke to someone else, "…is the signal…good…" and the volume picked up. "Zach has informed me that you should be getting the link up now." Gendo glanced over at Sakura, who was typing on her console. She used her ball mouse to select one icon, the next, a ream of text…

The HD television in the room flickered on as three people scooted to the side to provide a clear image to the rest of the assembled scientists. The picture shook, and what they saw was clear, blue sky, the outside edges shaking slightly as the cameraman grappled with a mount and his camera. After a moment, the image stabilized, zoomed, was fuzzy…

And there it was. The biggest mystery in physics that humanity had encountered since the Hoggs-Bosun particle. It had appeared over the south pole two years ago, and had defied everyone's observations until the minds of Shinji Katsuragi and Marcus Luthuli had discovered the curious particles it had emitted. Gathering together like-minded individuals like Gendo Ikari and others, they had been studying the strange spot in the air for the last year. Not much had happened, but today, they had 'poked' it by hitting it with a steady beam of ions from a device specifically designed with the range of the the strange occurrence in mind. It sat barely half a mile in the air, and it had taken a year to design and build the 'ray gun' necessary to hit it, using beams in the wattage and power that Shinji thought would get a result. The beam had been 'fired' this morning, and now it seemed that something was happening.

That seemed to be the way of scientists, Yui thought wryly. You find something you don't understand, and you poke it with a stick. In this case, the stick was a beam of incoherent energy, and the 'something' was…who knew? For they knew, they could have just given a wet-willy to God.

"It's like its…bending the air around it," someone noted.

"More like the reality," Gendo said, leaning back.

"What was that?" Shinji called.

"I said that it looks like it's bending the reality around it," Gendo repeated, leaning towards the mike. "What are your instruments indicating over there?"

"Radiation normal…temperature down here unchanged…everything is normal. It's like it's not registering on anything we have. We're about to kick up a weather balloon, see if that gives us different readings."

"Is the wind stable enough for that?" Gendo asked.

"We're getting meteorology reports right now…this is wild. There's no wind at level down here, and it looks like we have a complete still spot up for around twenty miles. No wind."

Gendo frowned, and turned in his chair. "Cyprian?" he asked, calling out to the meteorologist from South Africa. The black man shrugged.

"I'm looking at it now and getting the same thing. There is a cylinder eighteen miles by twenty miles of dead air. I have never seen anything like it before. It's like the eye of a storm, but no storm."

"The air is still circulating around it?" Naoko asked, intrigued.

"In concentric and counter-verging currents," Cyprian said, passing one hand over the other to emphasize the affect. Yui felt uneasy, when the American she had borrowed the radio from…some fellow named Roomy…tapped her on the shoulder.

"Dr. Ikari, Channel 44 is buzzing."

"Harry," she asked, nodding her thanks as she took the radio.

"Yui, something weird is happening," he said. "And not to our mice." She blinked in confusion as he continued. "I'm getting computer updates from Dr. Soryu at Asuka Station, and _she_ says that her mice are fine, but KL Particles over there are starting to fluctuate. We're not getting her readings, but I'm looking at her equipment reports…either she's got faulty instruments, or something is happening."

Yui frowned. Kyoko did not have faulty instruments. She was almost obsessive-compulsive when it came to calibrating and preparing her equipment. "Keep in contact with her," Yui ordered, and made her way to Gendo's chair. She leaned over him, and whispered, "Kyoko just said that Asuka Station is reading a fluctuation in KL Particles."

Gendo's frown matched her own, and he said into the mike, "Shinji, we're getting a word from Asuka Station that the KL Particles are starting to fluctuate there. What do you see on the ground?"

"I've had Ibrahim watching the scope, and he said it's still. Nothing out of the…whoa!"

"Shinji! What's happening?"

"Look at that," someone whispered, and Gendo turned towards the HD screen. The Phenomenon had gone from being a mirage to being a light show. Small arcs of electrical energy, almost like lightning, cascaded from it, surrounding it like tendrils or whiskers.

"We're about to send the weather balloon up. Are you seeing this?" Shinji asked, giddiness in his voice. Gendo wished he could match the joy. Something in his brain was holding him back from celebrating. He looked at Yui, and her expression was tight-lipped and concerned.

"Shinji, are you _certain_ the KL Particles in your region are holding normal?" Gendo asked.

"I just checked them myself. Nothing changed," he said.

The radio Yui still held squelched. She held it up to her ear. "Yui!" Harry was pleading, "Kyoko has figured it out. She was backtracking through the frequencies on the scope and found that if you reversed the frequency from what was detected, then amplify your wattage in gradual increments, you should be able to get a lock on the fluctuations. We tried her method and it got _noisy_!"

"Gendo, move," Yui said, brushing her husband aside. The Akagi scope downstairs, the brainchild of Naoko, was their primary tool for detecting and reading KL Particles. That one was on a separate network. On Gendo's computer, she brought up the program linked to the other scope on the roof. "What frequency did you find it at?" Yui asked.

"223.14," Harry said.

"223.14," Yui repeated, dialing in the frequency. Once it was locked in, she noticed fluctuations beginning to appear, small ones but certainly there. It would have been easy to miss them, considering what they knew about KL Particles at this point. To appear on the opposite end of the bandwidth like this was completely unknown behavior. She then began manually raising the wattage. She got to 6.4 on the meter when the scope squelched, and a cascade of red, green, and orange began circulating on the GUI for the scope. "Oh, my God," she mumbled, feeling numb. The KL Particles hadn't been sitting at a safe normal; they were being _bathed_ in them. If it was radiation, all of them would have been dead men walking. Considering that the Particles were still so poorly understood, it was safe to assume that they were dead either way.

Gendo had watched what Yui had done, and snatched the radio. "Harry, what frequency was Dr. Soryu using?"

"Um…22o.67." Gendo pulled up a calculator on his console, while running the rough distance from Asuka Station to Dome Fuji to Amundsen-Scott. It wasn't a straight line, but Dome Fuji was comfortably between the two, and he had a good range to work with.

"Shinji, bring up your scope to frequency 238 or roundabout there, until you get get a fluctuation. At the most severe or repetitive of those fluctuations, began raising the wattage of your scope."

There was a tense silence as Shinji adjusted his scope. The Phenomenon seemed to be shrinking on the screen, but becoming more active as well. After a few seconds, Shinji came back. "Found it at 239.01, this is…probably not good," he conceded. Suddenly, an audible snap-pop issued from the HD screen, and the sound of hissing came over both the loudspeakers and the television.

"Yes, very not good," Shinji said again, strangely calm. "Um…" There was a scuffle of noise over the speakers, and he added, "We're pulling back from Amundsen-Scott to a safer distance. It's actually getting warmer here. Temperature is starting to rise in increments of two…"

"That's good information," Gendo said, nervous. "That's fine, but please go ahead and evacuate. We can read everything you have remotely from here."

"Uh…yeah…" Shinji said quietly, and it occurred to Gendo that he wasn't evacuating. Shinji was sitting at his console, not moving. He felt his hands tighten, realization gripping him. Shinji had always been the smarter of the two, back in school. He was the driving force in the partnership with Luthuli as well. He knew something, and he wasn't telling.

Gendo closed his eyes. Shinji knew there was no point in evacuating. "Shinji, what're you seeing?" Gendo asked quietly.

"Considering the…" There was a cough, and deep breath. "Considering the amount of Particles radiating from the Source," referring to the Phenomenon, "I would say we'll see a critical mass very, very quickly." Gendo didn't know what that meant, and that frightened him. Critical mass of what? An explosion? Would it be the kind of burst produced by anti-matter or nuclear fusion? Was it the start of a new Big Bang barely a few hundred yards from the surface of the Earth? Critical mass could define a lot of things in physics.

"Uh, Gendo," he said, "Could you…do me favor?" His voice was still calm, but he warbled at the end, as though he was trying to keep from crying. "Ah…Misato…she's a good girl. She's a really good girl. I want her to know that I love her very much, and she is the…um…best thing I ever had." Gendo sat quietly, uncertain of what to say. His eyes popped opened, and he turned. God, he thought. He had forgotten…

Misato stood in the center of the room, lost in the crowd of adults. She was blank faced, but her eyes were wide. She was staring at the television, and listening to her father speak in a tone of voice and with words that confused and frightened her. Yui had realized it, as well, and hurried over to the girl. "Misato," she whispered, "Let's step out…"

"Oh, God," someone whispered, as the popping became a shriek, and the Akagi scope readout on Gendo's monitor flat-lined, for lack of a better word. The screen blanked as brightness beyond the mere pickups of a handheld camera were burned out, and the image broke into static. Over the loudspeaker, a high pitched whistle could be heard. Gendo knew, academically, that it meant the pickup on the other end had been melted.

He swallowed, and stood up. He looked at Misato, who was standing very still and very quietly. Yui knelt down and hugged her. Naoko covered her eyes. The room felt like a tomb, broken by the odd cough or the shuddering sniffle. Gendo left, turning down the hall and towards one of the exits. He opened the door, stepping out into the cold, and turned towards the Pole. A thin, vertical shaft of ruby light broke from the surface of the earth towards the sky, cutting at it's apex into a cross with two spans. He thought, almost whimsically, that they pointed north, east, south, and west, with the cap bar pointing towards heaven.

"What does this mean?" He turned, in surprise. Naoko was standing next to him, her eyes red and her face wet. Gendo noted she still wore one of her leis. He fiddled with his own, considering his answer.

"It's either the end of the world," Gendo mused, "Or the beginning of a new one. We need to evacuate."

* * *

There were two three-engined ski planes in special hangers at the edge of Dome Fuji. The hangers had been put up in 2012, and had allowed a greater than average inflow and outflow from the post. As soon as the Phenomenon had decided to upgrade it's status to the Event, meteorological reports around Antarctica had gone haywire. The 'silent cylinder,' as someone had whimsically called it before Amundsen-Scott became ground zero, had extended to include the whole of the southernmost continent of the world. While the affect was eerie, it also meant that flying out would be easier than anticipated.

Everything that could be taken was loaded, though not to the detriment of humans first. Gendo had overseen most of the evacuation proceedings, when Yui grabbed his elbow. "I need help with Misato," she asked, Gendo was confused, wondering if the girl had gotten hurt. When they finally arrived to Misato's room, he saw that the girl was catatonic…awake, but unresponsive. "I've been trying to get her to move, but I can't get through to her," Yui pleaded.

Gendo picked up the girl and cradled her in his arms. She was limp and light, barely weighing anything at all. He suspected Yui could have just as easily picked the girl up herself, but she seemed to out-of-sorts at the moment, unable to make clear decisions. He wasn't surprised: he felt the same way. He asked his wife, "Can you oversee the rest while I move her?"

"It's already done," she said, "There's nothing left to take."

"Please double-check," he asked, carrying the girl into the hall. He exited Dome Fuji, his wife behind and chanting into a radio for a status update. He took the girl to Hanger B where the 'Spring Chicken,' their second plane, was holed up, the pilot warming the engines with low-level revolutions of the propellers. Gendo handed the girl through the hatch to Naoko and Harry, and turned back to his wife. She nodded, and he took the radio. "'Southern Santa' will roll out first, 'Spring Chicken' will follow. We'll rally at Asuka Station and board the _Southern Cross_. Jackson," he added, specifically calling out the radio operator on the 'Southern Santa,' which possessed the more powerful radio. "Begin sending a message to all research stations on the continent. It's time leave. Antarctica needs to be evacuated in total now."


	3. The Battle Over the Waste

**December 28, 2015 - USS _Independence_, Atlantic Task Group 1, S 52° 28' 58.0088" by E 55° 11' 43.125" in the Southern Ocean**

The scientists had, thankfully, placed themselves under quarantine. There were something in the number of 4000 people on Antarctica year round, and that was a lot of people to be worrying about scattering to the four corners of the globe after being exposed to God knows what. Rear Admiral Hamish Adder had enough to worry about without considering 4000 potential time bombs. He watched the _Southern Cross_ through the bridge canopy as the research vessel pulled away from the massive _Independence_, the premiere jewel of the new _Bunker Hill_ super-carrier class. There were currently three in the American arsenal, and all of them were either in the proximity of Antarctica, or shaking their little white tail feathers in getting there.

"Sir, Prof. Gendo Ikari," CPO Grumman reported, as the man of the hour was escorted in by two Marine guards. He was currently clad in modern MOPP gear to avoid contaminating his hosts, far less restrictive and claustrophobic than what Adder remembered using as an ensign. He could see the man through the clear faceplate, bespectacled and bearded.

_Looks like a Japanese Abe Lincoln_, he remembered the Ship's First Mate, CDR Hoose had reported. She wasn't too far off the mark at that.

"Prof. Ikari," Adder said, shaking the man's hand. The man looked out of depth by his surroundings, but his handshake was firm.

"Rear Admiral Adder, thank you for taking the time to meet me," the Professor replied, his eyes flicking to the name tag and rank insignia on Adder's chest and lapel. He had assumed someone told Ikari who he was, but watching his eyes, Adder decided to reassess his opinion. Something about that, and the English accent to the man's words indicated that there were deeper workings in Ikari's mind. He understood the man to be native Japanese, but he spoke English as though he had been raised in London.

"I can't say I'm happy about it," Adder said with a smile. It was barely visible from here, but a rosy glow marked the spot of the Event to the south. "I would like to know what you scientists were doing to require a joint naval containment by every seagoing power in the Southern hemisphere."

"If I were a religious man, I would say we poked God in the eye, and He got angry," Ikari said mournfully. "We were conducting an experiment to try and get a reaction out of the Phenomenon in the air over the southern pole."

"I would say you succeeded," the Admiral said, leading Ikari from the bridge down into the Command Information Center. At the bottom of the stairwell, the two Marine guards saluted as the Admiral presented a key card. They allowed Ikari through, as he was accompanied by the Task Group CO.

"I am hesitant to say we had anything to do with it," Ikari admitted, "And that's not to shift the blame. The experiment we were conducting was in too low a frequency to produce this kind of reaction. I think that it just…happened. And we were watching when it did."

"Well…_we're_ watching now," Adder said, entering the dark space. In the center of the CIC, surrounded by various computer stations and consoles, was a vast 'tank' that presented constantly shifting three dimensional imagery inside a statically contained field of particulates and light. It was open-air, allowing a man to pass his hands or a laser or any other item through to highlight, grab, move, amplify, and otherwise point out information within the space. Currently, it was observing a model of the Antarctic region created by a combination of his Task Group's readings, satellite imagery, and the combined informational relay of every other allied ship around the continent. Above it all, a model of a plane dubbed SUPER 8 was drifting towards the South Pole.

"That's an AWAC we have on route to the disturbance," the Admiral pointed out. "As luck would have it, we are allowed to listen in as they communicate to the Witch."

"Witch?" Ikari asked.

"Central military leadership in the Pentagon. This has been handed over to Lt. Gen. Ashley Clay of the United States Marines. The President's favorite trouble shooter. Her codename, and by default her staff, is called the Witch. There's sharp, and then there's sharp. Then there's the Witch," Adder said with a hint of admiration. He had worked with Clay during a joint operation off of the coast of Argentina. He was already more comfortable knowing that, _if_ it was the end of the world tearing out of the South Pole, the Witch would be the one to see it down.

"SUPER 8 to Witch's Den," a voice came over the loudspeaker, as the AWAC symbol closed on the strange cross floating over the Pole, "We are closing on the event."

"Witch's Den to SUPER 8, keep your distance for now," came the reply. Information began to scroll underneath the symbol, the varied pieces of data that SUPER 8's sensitive equipment was reading.

"We have eyes on," SUPER 8 chanted, "And we do not know how to describe it. This is some ganky atmospheric voodoo up here, Witch."

"We're watching it now, SUPER 8. Just keep circling and recording. Don't get any closer than nece—"

"Witch's Den, we have a fluctuation." The interruption was sudden, but still calm and professional. "There seems to be…movement. Around the crux of the event. Near the 'crossbeams.'" There was a brief silence.

"Say again, SUPER 8, did you just report movement?"

"Roger that, it seems…like some sort of shadow or cloud. Hang on, my co-pilot is taking a peak through his HUDs viewfinder." There was a moment's silent. "He's saying it looks like insects."

"Say again, SUPER 8?"

"Something like insects. He's trying to be clearer. Says that's the best description he can come up with. You should be getting imagery from his helmet now."

A model compiled from the co-pilot's helmet imagery appeared underneath SUPER 8. Gendo leaned forward. From the 'front,' the core seemed diamond shaped, but from the side triangular. Stretching from it's points were limbs, or spines. It had begun to pulse, mimicking the motions observed from SUPER 8. It's movements brought to mind the image of a jellyfish or squid.

"There are a lot of them, Witch's Den."

"Any change in activity?"

"No, they're just circling the event."

There was a moment's silence. "Eh, SUPER 8, how do you feel about getting closer? The decision is yours."

"We'll move in, SUPER 8 observing." The AWAC symbol began to close on the cross, which now had a cloud of golden light circling it like a cyclone. At about ten miles distance, the cyclone shifted, and oriented towards the AWAC.

"Uh…Witch's Den, there's something up. I think we spooked them. They're getting curious now. I see…about twenty or thirty of the bugs head this way." There was a warble over over the line. "Did they just shoot at us?" the pilot murmured.

"SUPER 8, please confirm," Witch's Den chanted, "Have you been fired upon?"

"Trying confirm, Witch's Den. We're getting light and noise up here, but we can't tell—" There was a loud bang over the speaker, and eyes looked up from their consoles. The CIC had become silent, and everyone watched the tank.

"My copilot is dead, there's a hole in my cockpit!" SUPER 8 was screaming. "Cabin pressure is dropping, engines 1 and 2 are out. God damn it!" Another loud bang. "Main fuselage has been punctured, structural integrity shot to hell. They are hostile, repeat, they are hostile. SUPER 8, trying to turn around." The symbol of the plane twisted in a sickening lurch, a small cloud of gold hovering about it like pollen. It retreated along it's original vector, passing by the ten mile marker that had signaled the start of the disturbance. As it did, the cloud dissipated, and fluttered back to the cross.

"This is SUPER 8. Three of my flight crew are dead, two injured, I have fires on board, two engines out. We are transmitting everything we can back to you now, but I doubt we can make the coast. Fuel is dropping…I'm flying a coffin, Witch's Den."

"SUPER 8, we read you. Head for RP 56 and ditch when able."

"We're trying, Witch, but this is questionable—" There was a sickening squelch, and the line went silent. The image of SUPER 8 on the tank fluttered and vanished.

"Witch's Den to SUPER 8, respond." The line buzzed, but no response came. "Witch's Den to SUPER 8, we have lost your beacon. Please respond." One of the ratings turned back to his console, the only movement in the CIC.

He called up without turning around again, "Telemetry indicates AWAC SUPER 8 broke up seventy miles from the event, sir. Satellite imagery shows the port wing snapping. Without a her black box, though…" the rating trailed off.

"Very good, Petty Officer Church," Adder said. It _wasn't_ very good, but that was all he could think to say. SUPER 8 was now smeared across the snow, and it looked like their new guests were of the poorest demeanor.

"Sir," one of the radio technicians said, "We're getting an Alpha Launch code from Witch's Den, coordinates concurrent with that of the Event. They want a reconnaissance in force."

Adder was about to speak when Ikari put a hand on the man's arm. "Admiral," he said quietly, "I don't advise this."

"I'm sorry?" Adder asked.

"We are currently dealing with an unknown presence that is hostile, but stable. They haven't moved from the Event, and after reaching ten miles out, they returned from pursuit of your plane. If they are there, and not moving, we can study them. Assaulting them now means we don't know their habits, their weaknesses, even if our weapons will work."

"Their weapons seemed to work fine," Adder said, somewhat ruefully but mostly bitter.

"That's no guarantee it works both ways," Ikari said. "We're dealing with aliens, but they may not be aliens of a physical nature. Don't think of this in terms of invaders from another world. Think about it in terms of invaders from another dimension. The rules that govern us and them could be wildly different."

"That may be," the Admiral agreed, "But the orders to attack still stand. Further, we can learn about them through their reaction to this attack and the information gleaned from it. If we push them back to wherever they came from, all the better." He turned to one of the radio technicians. "Send a signal to all ships in Task Group 1. Alpha Launch, all planes."

* * *

Task Group 1 was built around the _Independence_ super-carrier, but it also contained two traditional nuclear carriers, a light carrier, and four 'hotbox' ships designed to carry and launch the missile drones slaved to the manned fighter craft of the Group. That was around 240 combat craft about to launch, with six to eight times the load of ordinance that implied. There had yet to be in this day and age a combat launch of that magnitude, but Task Group 1 was about to show how it was done. Overall, it seemed that whatever had made an appearance outnumbered the combat planes of Task Group 1 by a fraction, but the combined affect of the drones would tip the scales back significantly.

The other two super-carrier groups had yet to make it to a range where they could give adequate coverage, and none of the other allied carriers had the warfare packages or net to work with Task Group 1, so this would be largely a solo show.

That was fine with Captain Julie Root. More glory for her and Tango First.

Her F/A-18 Hyperhornet was the first off the deck, the latest in the repackaging of the aged and reliable Hornet classification of multi-purpose fighter. After the flap of the F-35 and F-22, the Hornet had seen it's life extended, but the modern aircraft was almost unrecognizable in comparison to its forebears. Higher flight ceiling, faster overall output, longer range, significant electronic warfare upgrades…this was about as close to flying a star-fighter that humanity could get to at the moment.

"Sea Duck Leader, on the top," she chanted. Her own flight had been mission designated Sea Duck, Sea Wing being the total commitment of the _Independence_'s full flight group. The other two wings, Rook Wing and Saber Wing, would link up with her and form the entirety of Tango First, Task Group 1's killer angels.

"Sea Duck Leader up, patching you to your pods," a voice chanted back, and on her HUD, Nibblers 1 through 4 appeared. Her missile drones, the little tykes would link to the momma hawk that was her, take their spots off her wing, and follow through hell and high water. She smiled. Each Nibbler contained roughly the same load of ordinance her own Hornet contained, at a fraction the weight. The smaller craft, devoid of the need to keep a pilot alive, could match the performance of a Hyperhornet at a reduced workload. And it gave her a lot of firecrackers to fling around. The technology hadn't existed five years ago, but now it was commonplace throughout the Fleet.

"Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for I have 35 tons of AMRAM hotshot," she sighed dreamily. She knew that they were about to let them fly, straight at a presence that had been described as 'alien.' First contact had occurred, and it was not friendly. She doubted second contact would be, as well, but that was the nature of a tit-for-tat punch.

Her flight hopped up on the deck, stacking up as Rook and Saber picked up their numbers. The go-code was soon given by all flight leaders, and they pointed their noses south, towards death and glory.

* * *

"Sea Duck Leader to Sea Duck Flight," Root said, "stick close and watch your instruments. We've been told to check for ECM bursts."

"Sea Duck Leader, do they think we might get scrambled?"

"Negative, but they want to know everything we record from slapping around Starman out there," she said, and clicked over to her general command net. "Sea Flight, we are coming in on the event. Last call, boys. Give me your ups."

"Sea Rat Leader, standing tall."

"Sea Snake Leader, affirmative."

"Sea Dog Leader, all ready." The flight leaders chanted in, she stretched in her seat, watched her instruments and waited. There was a ping on her board, and her radar begin plotting bogeys. That was odd…they weren't at the ten-mile marker yet. In fact, they still had a ways to go.

"Tango First," the voice of the CIC broke through, "We are getting major movement on the cross. They seem to know you're coming, and are positioning to engage."

"Roger, bouncing targets and locking up," Root commented. Modern combat computers meant artillery could fire at targets from beyond range of sight, and the same held true for aerial artillery as well. Every electronic eye watching the battle was crunching numbers for Root's murderous babies, and giving them everything they needed to pop their missiles at the otherworldly intruders rushing towards them from beyond the horizon.

Except that they weren't. "We got a problem, Sea Duck Leader," her flight executive, Sea Duck 2, muttered. "We have no IFF, no readouts, nothing on the incoming bogeys."

"What about heat signatures?" They could still, technically, fire on heat signatures at range. Warheads in missiles, starting back about two years, utilized multipurpose tracking modules that could make one missile five, tracking everything from IR to Friend-or-Foe. It meant that, in theory, they could lob a missile towards a heat source, and let it track purely on guidance given by a satellite. Once it was close enough to pick up the heat source on it's own, the satellite told the missile 'Fetch!' and let it loose. In _theory_; the practice was iffy at best.

No time like the present to try it, if they could get heat sources. "Good news, Sea Duck Leader," Sea Duck 2 chanted, "They are hot and bothered. Tracking heat source signatures now…painting targets."

Five targets lit up in her HUD, boxes floating over objects well beyond her human sight. Beyond those boxes was the eerie cross cutting through the sky. "Targets locked," Root called. She heard her flights report back, and soon, every plane and drone in Tango First was locked on to something. If this worked, they would wipe out eight percent of the enemy effective air strength in one go.

"Tango First," CIC called, "Fire when ready."

"Sea Duck Flight, Fox 1," Root called, slapping her missiles on their way. Her fighter and each drone sent one missile to a target, five in all. Around her, the collected mass of Tango First sent a deadly barrage hurtling towards the enemy flight. Seconds ticked away into minutes, as the missiles closed. She watched her display, the cloud of opponents still bearing towards them, the significantly larger cloud of missiles bearing towards _them_. Light flickered on the horizon as the warheads hit.

"Word back from CIC, every missile a confirmed hit," Sea Duck 2 chanted happily. "Wait a minute…" he muttered.

"I see it, I see it," she hissed. They put down forty percent of their targets, but the rest were still moving. Did they miss? Was there some sort of countermeasure in play they hadn't anticipated?

"Tango First," CIC was calling, "We have negative impacts on sixty percent of strikes. Repeat…"

"Sea Duck Flight, Fox 2," she called in disgust, and more missiles were lobbed. They were closing on that cloud, and she was getting antsy at that prospect

The missiles struck. Only twenty percent this time. Now she could see the individual craft, a cluster of black spots moving much like a flock of birds or swarm of insects. They seemed in sync with each other in a way that was alive and unnerving.

"To hell with it," she muttered, and clicked the command net. "Weapons free, weapons free, pick your targets and take them. All flights, buckle in and get ready to push through." Battle in the air was much like battle on the ground. Separating your force was a great way to lose a fight, and scattering it was often suicidal. Keeping her group together and coordinated would get them home alive, if not victorious. She clicked over to Rook and Saber Leaders. "Sea Flight is punching through the core. Rook, take the ceiling, Saber go low," she called, hoping to try and contain the enemy in their upper and lower flanks while they were distracted, and hopefully scattered, by the risky move she was forcing on her own flight.

She received acknowledgments, the two flights cutting up and down respectively, Saber hanging back and Rook pushing up. She could make out the shape of the bizarre creatures now, glittering as missile fire cracked at pace throughout the cloud. Root could see it, now: some of the bogeys were projecting a field or barrier which was preventing the missiles from slicing through. It didn't seem to work all the time: she saw two or three foes burst in clouds of red meat and liquid. Something about that disturbed her. Fighting against machines were a given. It was possible these were organic machines.

Or they were just plain _alive_. Something about fighting living things in the air made Root feel squirmy. She banished that thought from her head as the distance went from miles to yards. That cloud was upon them and they were committed. They were playing a game of chicken at Mach 1, and neither side wanted to blink.

"Push through, Sea Flight!" Root screamed, feeling her Hyperhornet rattle as turbulence buffeted her frame. Nibbler 3 blinked off her screen as it collided with one of the bogeys, and she heard casualty reports chanting over her net. She made it through, and pulled back hard. There were flashes of light, and she looked up through the top of her canopy to gaze where she had been. The creatures were fighting back with coherent beams of white hot light, awful things that cut through her planes like a knife through a hard-boiled egg. Wings were snipped, fuselages cut, and cockpits burst as the lights played havoc with Sea Flight. Still, it could have been worse, Root thought, checking her casualties. She was seventy percent up, and still in formation. And now she held the flank.

Sea Flight twisted around as Rook bore down from above. Saber continued to hold back, circling wide to slash up once Rook had blown their ordinance through. It never happened; the invaders whipped up like one being and began butchering Rook Flight. Their initial surprise was gone, and they were proving a deadly enemy.

Time to get creative. And possibly a _little_ suicidal. "Sea Flight group, scatter and pick your targets. Grab 'em by the belt and bash their faces in." Ordering the equivalent of a mass aerial bar brawl was not exactly the most clever thing to do, but the coordination displayed by the invaders was taking its toll. Rook Flight was already limping away, and reporting itself combat ineffective, and Saber Flight now found its position working against it. Had the invaders been committed upward, they would exposed their bellies to Saber. The speed with which they chewed through Rook meant they were sitting on the high ground and ready.

It wouldn't hurt to get unconventional, now, as sticking to book was getting them hurt as is. The invaders worked well in unison, group to group. How would they work nose to nose? It was possible they could just start ganging up on Root's individual planes. That worked both ways, however.

Sea Flight was game for it, either way. A flurry of afterburners heralded their descent into the cloud of the enemy, and the fight began in earnest. Nibbler 2 blinked out, and Root cast off the remaining drones with a grimace. It would get crowded in here, and missiles might hit friendly tail feathers as readily as enemy hindquarters. She cycled up the Vulcan gun in her nose, and drew down on one of the bogeys. They were fast, and maneuverable, but not very smart. Her theory seemed to hold; in a group, they were deadly, but one-on-one, they were unimaginative and lacking. Her Vulcan grunted, and sparks flew from the bogey as the bullets stuck its shield.

Sea Flight 5 came up below and fired its own burst, tearing holes in the creatures hide. It couldn't block everything from everywhere, it seemed. Good to know. She hoped that would mark the turn in the battle, but a message came through over the net.

"New enemy group emerging from the Event site. Repeat, new enemy group. You are now outnumbered by a ratio of 8 to 1. Return to base, immediately. I repeat, you are thoroughly outnumbered. The sortie is canceled. Return to base."

Root swore, calling out, "Sea Flight, all flights, kick it home now. Break off and move." She checked her flight status. She was at fifty percent combat effective, now. Hitting her afterburners and cutting for clean sky, she tasted bile in her throat. The best aerial combat equipment of the First World, and it had just been kicked out the building. They had given their best, and bloodied some noses, but it wasn't enough.

They had just lost.

They were chased for a few miles, losing a some stragglers on the way. The Flights attempted to cover them as best they could, but realistically, they could barely cover what they had. Root watched in bitter silence as the damaged planes limped down, followed to ground by the alien foes. When they had their fill, the things fluttered back to the cross.

"Tango First," CIC called, "You are to get low and move fast. Protocol Fenris has been initiated." Root's eyebrow quirked, and she felt a hollow pit in her stomach. Fenris was the most current model of nuclear fusion missile that the US had in its inventory. _Independence_ had ten. They were not as powerful as other bombs, in terms of explosive potential, but the center of their blasts were considered the most hostile environment yet produced by a nuclear weapon.

"This is Sea Duck Leader," she called, "Hold off on Fenris. There are friendlies down in the kill zone." It was hard to tell, but entirely possible that some pilots ejected during that brutal melee.

"That has been taken into account, Sea Duck Leader," CIC called back. She froze, recognizing the voice of Rear Admiral Adder now on the line. He had taken over from whatever rating had been CIC's voice before. "We understand, but that is the decision. Pull back and get clear."

Root grimaced, muttering "Jesus wept," and cut the line. The day had gone from bad to worse, and then right to hell.

* * *

"Merry Christmas," Adder mumbled, watching the dot of the Fenris warhead float down on the crux. The golden cloud was much bigger, and what was worse, there was a mass collecting at the base. Something ground oriented had spilled through as well.

"Impact in 4, 3, 2, 1…mark," a missile technician chanted. The screen shuddered and blanked, the observing sensors blinded by the flash. For twenty seconds, there was no image, as all the electronics involved reoriented themselves and adjusted to the conflagration that had blinded them. Adder held his breath, waiting…

"Initial reports…Event Zone has been cleared. All enemy forces have been eliminated," the call came.

"And the disturbance, or…gate?" Adder asked.

"Still there, but nothing's coming through," was the reply.

"It's closing," Gendo Ikari noted. The Admiral looked at the scientist, who was reading the numbers appearing around the symbol on the tank. "It's receding back into itself and sputtering out."

"Well…good. For all that came of _that_," Adder mumbled. It would take some time to confirm, but it was looking like something in the number of 120 US service personnel were now dead, thanks to whoever or whatever came through that portal. "All it took was a nuke to send them back."

"No, I doubt that the missile had anything to do with it. More likely, the flux is just ending it's lifespan. You cleaned out the intruders, at least. That flux though..." Ikari seemed to want to say something else, but couldn't.

Adder felt disturbed. "At least it's over," he said, trying to be optimistic.

"It's not," Ikari mumbled, his shoulders visibly sagging.

"I'm sorry?" Adder asked, confused.

"This will not be an isolated incident," he said, "That's just the first tear in our reality. It'll take time to analyze everything we've recorded and saved on the _Southern Cross_, but I feel certain that what we saw is simply the beginning. This isn't over," Ikari sighed. "It's going to get worse."

* * *

On December 31st, 2015, it did.

Heralding in the new year, fluctuations similar to the South Pole Incursion opened sporadically around the world, unleashing an enemy of unbridled fierceness with unfathomable goals against the peoples of the world. In the space of twenty-four hours, hundreds of millions were killed, and regions in South America, Australia, and Africa were colonized and seized by groups of the Others who had invaded from some place beyond understanding or reason. Three attempts to seal fluxes with nuclear weapons proved non-viable. Within one year, the population of the Earth, through refugee migrations, civil conflict, internecine warfare, and sporadic fluctuations bringing more Others amongst human population centers, saw loss of life on a scale thought unimaginable to that point. The death toll would have climbed to the billions by the time the situation finally stabilized, anchored by some countries stable and untouched by the chaos, such as Great Britain, Japan, and Germany. Left reeling the wake of the Arrival Day, humanity stopped, regrouped, and rebuilt, with a wary eye turned to the Southern Hemisphere.


	4. Eucharist

**March 13, 2017 - US Containment Site Gulliver, Detroit, Michigan, United States**

Yui stared at her notepad, her mind wandering again. The rain soaked streets of Detroit passed her window, but they offered no visual stimulation for her either. Her mind was too full, with her destination, with where she had been, with…other things. She rubbed her stomach and grimaced.

"You okay, doc?"

She glanced at her driver, a former cop named Mick Yu-Na. He was a Korean, but could speak Japanese fluently, hence his role as being her driver. He was currently employed in the Security Division of Sarif Industries, the robotics conglomerate that had made a name for itself in the defense industry. It's owner, David Sarif, had been wanting to push out into the new field of advanced prosthetics, and he felt that making friends with the biology field was an important step in that direction. He had sponsored the conference in Chicago, and personally requested her attendance as a keynote. She thought she would fly in, give a lecture, answer some questions, enjoy the sights. Then…things happened.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she managed, trying to smile. "I think I just ate something that disagreed with me." That was convincing enough. At least she wasn't having to lie to Gendo.

What would she tell Gendo? _This is all your fault, Lump,_ she thought with some venom, while her hand remained on her tummy. There had been signs. She was busy enough to have ignored the possibility until last week, when she started pondering drinking wine at the conference. She discreetly purchased a box of pregnancy tests. And got a positive.

Then another. Then another. She had worked through the whole box, mechanically drinking more water and using each wand. She had a collection of positives by the end. A whole happy flock of plus signs.

What would she tell Gendo?

She wanted to have babies…well, _a _baby. She had long had hopes for a daughter, fixated on the name Rei. After the Event in Antarctica, and being bathed with KL Particles, that dream had died for a bit. There were concerns about what aftereffects Arrival Day would have. The 4,103 people who had been on the continent were all numbered and monitored the world over, for their health more than anything else. No side effects had appeared in all this time, and the it was becoming accepted that KL Particles were probably not dangerous. They still understood so little about the damned things, after all this time. There had been a spate of pregnancies in the six months following, and observations of those gestations and births had given her no reason to be concerned. Still…

Yui was nervous, for many reasons. They formally adopted Misato, though she had kept the surname Katsuragi. Yui was concerned what the girl would think when an actual child of the Ikaris showed up. Would she feel sidelined? Replaced? She had made a lot of progress in the wake of that disaster, in the wake of the year of chaos and fear that had followed. Then there was Gendo. He did well with Misato, if distant and confused. And then that night happened, and she had to reassess things.

She had returned from the grocery store to find Gendo sitting in the kitchen, staring at the hallway. "Misato came home," he said, without any greeting, "Saying a boy had hurt her feelings. Someone she had a crush on. She's in her room crying. I don't what to do."

"That's too bad," Yui said, feeling sorry for the girl. First crushes and first heartbreaks were awful things at any age, but especially at fourteen. She began to put items away, and heard nothing else from Gendo. She turned, and saw that he had the most miserable expression on his face. He was often bland, though sweet. She had never seen him look like that.

"I don't know what to do," he repeated.

"There's…not much to do, except tell her we love her, and that this is only one boy, and she'll find someone who'll make her truly happy," Yui said, listing off all the textbook answers while studying her husband with growing concern. His gaze fell to his hands, then drifted around the room.

"I…won't be a good father. I'm not a good father. I don't think…" he mumbled, and fell silent. Yui felt like she had been hit by a car; he had never given any opinion on the issue one way or the other, and now he looked to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown over his inability to comfort one heartsick girl.

How would he react, then, to find out he was going to be a father whether he wanted to be or not? And then there was that lingering fear of Antarctica. Every baby born since had been healthy, but what if…what if this was the one to come out different? Yui shrank into her head, trying to reach out to the little bundle of cells that was divided and subdividing into a nervous system, circulatory system, heart, lungs, stomach, varied assembled organs, fingers, toes…little eyes, little nose, little ears, little mouth.

_Birth control, my foot,_ she grumped in her mind. _Well, fine!_ _If you could make it past all that, then you clearly want to be in this world_, she added with finality. She was going to be a mommy, Gendo was going to be a daddy, and they were going to like it, damn it.

They pulled up to a military checkpoint leading into a warehouse district. "This used to be a shipping district, back in the day," Mick noted, handing his credentials to the sopping MP. "Then the economy bottomed out. Never quite recovered. And then came the Bad Year. Things got better downtown, where the company is headquartered, but here…no dice."

"I understand that's working in our benefit today," she said idly.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "I love the idea of giving up progress for science experiments." Yui shrugged. They had to keep the corpses of the Others somewhere, after all.

It had been her biggest contribution in the wake of the disaster. Turning her biological talents on the others, she had been declared the foremost expert on their bizarre structures and physiology. They were physical beings, but physical beings of a simpler construct, in some ways more primitive, and in others, more advanced. They had run the whole gamut of appearance, from vaguely human to the outright bizarre. She had seen some that looked like children, three foot tall little gray things that brought to mind the old meme of alien abductors. She had seen some that looked like giant spider crabs, small bodies bouncing along attached to spindly legs. She had even seen a few geometric shapes, floating along like vehement clouds. The most common seemed to be insect or cephalopod-like forms, which made sense to Yui. That was a durable and adaptive biological format.

She did not discover the Super-Solenoid organ. That was Luthuli, working off a principle he and Katsuragi had theorized on when they made the first discovery of the KL Particle emissions. He had deduced that the organ in question, one that seemed shared among all the others, was like an infinite battery, or perpetual motion engine for a living creature. It was, in itself, a source for KL Particles as well, leading to the theory that the particles were some sort of waste or byproduct. Her own research had not confirmed it, but it put Luthuli's ideas ahead of the pack. She _could_ be the one to boast about the AT Field.

The Anti-Terror Field was what allowed some of the Others their bizarre and frightening abilities. Yui theorized that all Others possessed one. Indeed humans probably did, as well. In essence, it was an intrinsic charge or pattern that kept all electrons, molecules and other such bits and pieces of matter together on the smallest level of existence, preventing the body from collapsing into its most basic components. Some Others had the ability to harness or focus those AT Fields, in a wide range of abilities, predominantly as shields, or means for levitation, or the terrible beams of energy they produced.

And here she was, asked to identify a new one. The Americans had found something new, and wanted her to take a peek, realizing that the premiere expert on the others was at a conference, in Chicago, run by a man whose company was based in Detroit, where it had been found. Reality had a surreal way of making ends meet some time, she mused.

Mick was waved over to a warehouse, and pulled the sedan in through the big steel doors. Soldiers in their digicam armor regarded the civilian vehicle with wary curiosity, some exiting to relieve others in the rain, others standing about in roving patrols on the interior of the structure. An older officer with a severe mustache and a more severe haircut greeted the car, opening Yui's door for her. "Dr. Yui Ikari?" he asked, "My name is Col. Alois Mortimer, I'm in charge of this sideshow." He extended a hand to help her out of the vehicle. She smiled, and accepted the uncommon gesture.

"My pleasure, Colonel. Perhaps you can explain why you've requested my presence today?"

"This way, if you please," the tall fellow said. She adjusted her bag, and followed as he began speaking. "Essentially, we've found something that does not fit the pattern of any known classification of the Others we have seen to this point. Behavior, appearance, the works. It appeared three days ago, and it's been lingering since it's been discovered."

"Lingering? Is it still alive?" Yui asked, pausing with some concern. They were walking towards a containment tent inside the warehouse, but nothing about it appeared remotely hardened. If it was alive, why was it inside such a flimsy structure? "Yes, ma'am, it is. We've had our own specialists going over it, but as soon as we found out you were in Chicago, they insisted that you be persuaded to come take a peek."

"You're being very vague about this, Colonel," Yui mumbled, handing her bag to a Soldier as the Colonel led her into an airlock. Several sets of one-size fits all hazard suits were hanging in a partitioned and seal-able alcove of the lock. He handed her one, while picking a second for himself.

"Ma'am, I have been in the Infantry for seventeen years. I have fought in engagements all over the world, and seen things that I will not attempt to explain. I am not even going to approach describing what is on the other side of that lock," he muttered, jabbing a thumb at the sealed flap. After locking into their suits, the front entrance was zipped shut, and tubing on the ceiling of the lock sprayed them with a decontamination shower. After it was completed, and they had taken a moment to clear their face plates, the inner lock opened, and Yui stepped through. Her breath ceased, and she stared in wonder.

It was amazing not merely for it's uniqueness, but how eerily human like it was.

It was…a _she_. A large human female, laboring to breathe on a great slab.

Yui stared in amazement at the figure. As white as starlight, fifteen feet tall from foot to crown, hairless, but…female. Human and female. At least it appeared that way.

"She's…beautiful," Yui breathed, and meant it. Her form was pristine, her face, a _human_ face, was delicate and symmetrical. Her eyes were coal black, and glistening. She labored to breathe, lying on the tarp.

"She's also friendly," one of the scientists said. Yui's attention was torn from the Other in front of her at that. The man came forward, extending a hand and allowing her to see his brown face through the plate. "Dr. Elias Cochran, US Army Containment Services. I am honored you could come down," he said.

"It's a…pleasure, Doctor. Um…friendly?" she stammered, turning back to the female.

"It was found by three children, in a field," Mortimer explained. "It was originally local EMS that made the call to us, because one of the kids gave a 911 report asking to help the 'angel.' When EMS found them, one of the kids was holding it's hand. It was conscious, appeared lucid. We confirmed that there was a flux in the area, judging by readouts on our Akagi scopes. This is the first time that we know of where something came through and didn't try to kill everything."

"Maybe she's from a different place," Yui mumbled, reluctant to call the godlike creature an 'it.' It seemed the children who found her was right…'angel' would not be far off the mark.

"Maybe. What we want to know is why it's here, and what it wants," Mortimer grumbled. "We have a shoot first policy on Others, but this was…"

"Out of our field," Cochran said. "She's not doing so well, though. Most Others that we know of have very simple biological systems, almost like they were built for short term purposes. It's been difficult to observe them in any meaningful way given their hostility. But her…well, we can't tell if she was sick when she came over, or something here made her sick. We don't even know if we can adequately classify her _as_ an Other."

She nodded, saying, "I agree. It's clear she is a much more complex than what we've encountered so far."

"Perhaps it's an attempt at infiltration?" Mortimer asked, "Trying to create more human-like Others?"

"No," Yui said, "I mean…it's _possible_, but…" she turned and fixed the Colonel with a serious look. "What does your _heart_ tell you?" His face was baleful, and she shrugged. "All right, your guts. Your…instincts." Her accent was vastly improved, but finding words still proved an issue.

He pondered it when put that way. "Well…" he shrugged, rolling his eyes. "Yes, this doesn't have that feeling. This feels…like something else. I can't explain it."

Yui leaned over the head of the creature. The female's black eyes fixed on Yui, her expression soft and wonder in her eyes. No, not just wonder.

Pleading.

"We've started calling her Lilith," Cochran added. "Someone was feeling in a mystical mood. I wanted to call her Lucy, but…I got beat to punch." He stood next to Yui, watching with open admiration. Yui began unlatching her suit.

"Uh…wait, this is a clean environment…" Cochran began, but Yui would not be stopped.

"I can't _see_ her in this," she said, shucking the hood. As a biologist, she knew very well that one did not want to contaminate a sterile environment, but this…woman had already been exposed to whatever contaminants the world contained. And something…Yui's gut had never led her astray before. And her instincts were screaming at her to remove the gear, and to get close. This was not an issue of biological examination, but something more intrinsic. Empathetic, perhaps. _Human_.

She laid the knuckles of her hand gently on Lilith's cheek. It was soft, and had an almost velvety texture in spite of being devoid of anything remotely like hair. Lilith sighed, a tremor passing through her body. The black eyes gazed serenely. Her skin was cool, and a strange comfort seemed to flow from her. This was _not_ an Other, Yui knew. No doubt, this was something else entirely.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

The beautiful creature smiled, a human expression that shocked Yui in it's familiarity and genuineness…and then with an effort, raised an arm and placed the tip of her index finger on Yui's forehead.

The world snip-snapped, and Yui gasped as images and ideas not her own and incomprehensible flooded her mind. Words disjointed and unbidden rattled through her brain, yet she was calm. A sudden image of a small lump of flesh appeared. The lump grew, to become an embryo. The embryo became an infant, the infant a child. The child grew, a skinny boy with black hair and blue eyes. In amazement, it occurred to her that…that was the Lump. The intruder she and Gendo had created.

_A son_, she thought in awe. _That's my son. That's _our_ son. He's beautiful._

She felt herself return to flesh, standing in a great space. She was nude, but not formed, as though it was more the shape of her as a woman than the actuality. Yui gazed about the space, stared at her hands. They glowed warm and fuzzy, as though impermanent and insubstantial. She sensed a presence, and turned, confronted by Lilith. She stood at Yui's height, statue-still and bearing an expression that was warm and embracing.

_Life_, she seemed to hear, a cry of joy and a prayer of thanks. _Life._

"Life," Yui replied, her voice strange and floating in this…place. "My…you mean my baby."

_You have made life_, the words came, _Such wonderful life. Such wonderful miracles_.

"Are you…you're her? The one that they've been calling Lilith?" Yui asked, looking around her. The words were coming from the figure in front of her…somehow, and from somewhere. Lilith's head turned gently to the side, a look of curiosity.

_There will be Messengers._

The floor fell out from Yui, and she floated over a world red and hostile. The sky bled crimson, and it seemed to her a place both familiar and utterly inhuman, beyond anything a human should recognize as legitimate and sound. She could see _something_, like great, white naked arm…an obscene _it_, demanding and imposing. Miles high, swaying like a living column of smoke. Circling it like penitents was a ravening mob of biological diversity that appalled even the biologist Yui. There, amongst and around them, were great beings, giant in frame and gait. None of them appeared similar, but all felt…hostile. Cold. Evil.

_They seek the Capstone_, Lilith said. _They are tools. They will be the tools of your undoing. The tools of their Master's return._

"Who…who is their Master?" Yui asked. "What is the Capstone? What do you mean?"

_You will know. You will use this, my flesh._ Lilith held up her arms, as if presenting herself. Yui shook her head in confusion, and then understood.

"No," she said, a quiet plea. "That's…too much. You offer too much."

_Use this_.

"Why? What are we to you? What makes us so important to you that you would do that?" Yui pleaded, watching as Lilith began to recede. There was no answer, and darkness overtook her.

* * *

Yui woke up on a cot in field tent, Mick leaning over her with concern. "Welcome back, Doctor," he said with a smile. "You had us worried for a spell."

"I'm fine," Yui said, sitting up. Truthfully, she felt alert, if a little stiff.

"You're not," the bodyguard insisted. "You've been unconscious for eighteen hours."

"What?" Yui said, trying to stand and feeling her knees give. "I've been…eighteen _hours_?"

"That's what I said," Mick replied, his arms extended to spot Yui. "I've been keeping watch over you for the last four. We've been working shifts. I'll go get Dr. Cochran." Twenty minutes later, the doctor was by her bed side, with an Army medical officer.

"When she touched you, every electrical device in a five-hundred foot radius shorted," Dr. Cochran explained, "And you dropped like a load of bricks. Near as we can figure with her…she had stroke. I'm sorry to say it, but Lilith did not survive whatever transpired between you two."

"She wasn't supposed to," Yui explained, the officer removing a blood pressure cuff from her arm. Cochran blinked in surprise, and Yui continued. "She…showed me things. It's still hard to make out, but she was giving us a gift."

"A gift?"

"Herself." Yui closed her eyes, a strange wave of sadness rushing over her. She rubbed her belly, wondering at the state of her baby…her _son_…after the encounter. She doubted anything bad had happened. The vibe of the meeting didn't seem to imply that a threat to her or the baby was intended. "She gave herself. She gave us tools. The Others are…" She shrugged. "The Others are not the threat. They're the…tools of the threat. Things are going to get worse, and I don't know what or how it will happen, but…"

She leaned back. "Lilith was making a covenant. She was giving us her body for us to use. The cells, the organs, all of it."

"Why?" Cochran was surprised. "How do you know that? And, if that's the case, what makes it so special?"

"I don't know how I know, I just do," Yui said, irritated at her own inability to explain, and irritated by the insistent Army doctor. He was trying to shine a light in her eyes to test pupil dilation. She swatted him away. "I'm still sorting it out, but there's something special in her that she wants us to use." She leaned back, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Here's the deal," she began, "the Others are biological constructs, but constructs that behave in ways that defy what we consider the normal laws of organically based life. They're not even carbon based; there are things in their base components that don't exist on our periodic table. The most dangerous of them are capable of performing acts that seem almost supernatural, and despite all of our research, we have yet to create a conventional weapon or tactic that can adequately defeat them at the flux sources."

She closed her eyes and placed her hands on her lips. "Let's suppose for a moment that there's something different about Lilith. Clearly, she is radically different from anything else we've encountered. Perhaps the key to fighting back is locked away in her base components."

"That's a stretch," Cochran said, "But all things considered, I think it's a reasonable one."

"We have to tear her down, and see what tools we can make from her. I don't like the idea of it, but…that's essentially what she told me to do." Yui sighed, twiddling her fingers. "It can't stay here," she murmured. "I know you'll argue the point, but everything I need to analyze her in total is back in Japan, at my lab in Kyoto."

"I won't, actually," Cochran shrugged. "This is outside the ball park for us. I know that my superiors, in the military and the government, will disagree, but this isn't an American problem; it's a human one. I don't know how you'll persuade them, but I'll throw my vote in. I know a couple of others in the field that will, but be prepared for a dogfight. There are some that want to curl their claws in as soon as able. Like Kihl."

"Who?" Yui asked. The name seemed familiar, but the face or the context eluded her.

"Lorenz Kihl. German, wealthy, _very_ self important. He's been a name in NATO weapons development and theoretical physics for years. He'll want the United States to ship Lilith out to him, or…in the very least, keep it here." That rang a bell. Yui had heard her husband talking about the man, in somewhat unflattering terms.

"Excuse me." Yui and Cochran glanced at Mick, who had been standing quietly to the side. He had refused to leave once Yui was awake. "I don't understand a single damn thing you two have been talking about, except that Dr. Ikari needs to move something and she might get stonewalled. Right so far?" Cochran nodded. Mick gave them both a 'hey, stupid!' look, pointed at the red logo on his blazer pocket that read 'Sarif Industries.' "Doctor, you've been sponsored by one of the up-and-coming names in the defense industry. He is trying to get you in his corner big time." It dawned on her what he was saying at about the same time it occurred to Cochran.

"I swear, for a couple of smart people, you're both kind of dumb," Mick chided.


	5. Making Life

**August 2, 2017 - Fuyutsuki Annexe, Kyoto University System, Sengokuhara, Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan**

Kyoko sat down, having just finished vomiting the contents of her breakfast in the public restroom. Yui added a new culture to her petri dish. "Serves you right for stealing my thunder," she murmured. Kyoko made a face, her hand rubbing her swelling belly. She looked like a balloon through her hazmat suit, and Yui felt sorry that Kyoko was fighting so bad with nausea at this point in time. Every moment she felt that urge, she had to stop what she was doing, cycle through, do her business, then cycle back. It didn't help that the suit emphasized her swollen frame.

Of course, Yui had no room to talk. As small as she was, and as far along as her own bundle was coming, she probably looked like she was ready to take flight over a sporting event.

"The little devil is determined to make sure I don't enjoy a single thing I eat. I'll make her eat broccoli for the first five years as revenge," she said, closing her eyes.

"Hey, look on the bright side, yours isn't practicing his right hook on your bladder," Yui retorted. "He's busy. And curious."

"Have you picked a name yet?" Kyoko asked.

"Shinji," Yui said, a shy smile on her face.

"Oh. Misato will love that," Kyoko said, standing up. "Have you told her?"

"It's a surprise. She knows she's going to have competition soon," Yui said with a wink. "She's happy about the baby, but she's afraid she'll be replaced. She hasn't said that, of course, but I can tell. You know how kids are."

"Not yet, but I will," Kyoko sighed.

"What about yours?"

"Asuka," she replied, her eyes glittering through her breath mask.

Yui made a face. "For Asuka Station? Really? That's what you're calling your little girl?"

"I liked the name," Kyoko responded in a shrill tone, "I thought it sounded sweet. It's perfect for a little girl. The characters for the name mean 'perfume of tomorrow.'"

"That's not why you picked it. That girl will grow up to be psychotic and unmanageable."

"I hope your boy's a sissy," Kyoko said peevishly.

"Oh, God, if I have my way he _will_ be," Yui sighed, suddenly nervous. Japan had been remarkably untouched by the Arrival, and was enjoying the benefits of that. However, it was no longer a pacifist nation: the Self-Defense Forces had been reorganized and greatly expanded. The Self-Defense Forces were now more of a gendarmerie or National Guard. There was now the Expeditionary Forces, the active branch of a military that operated outside of Japanese territories. There were missions in Central America, the Philippines, Australia…Yui was developing the mother's fear of a son in uniform, with a rifle, dying somewhere very far from home. _I'm gonna be a clingy kind of mother_, she thought wearily.

She placed the petri on the microscope's tray, and tacked a few keys on her laptop. The microscope's screen blinked on, and the powerful lens whirred. "Look at that," she said, leaning back. "Like two old friends." The sample had reacted better than anticipated, and was growing. As it grew, Ikari reflected how rapidly things had changed.

The body of the being known as Lilith had been moved to Kyoto University's Fuyutsuki Annexe in the town of Sengokuhara. The small urban area had been picked as an ideal place that was moderately isolated but able to support the infrastructure necessary for research. As it was the childhood home of Kozo Fuyutsuki…well, nepotism may have been slightly involved. Not that the crafty old fox was denying it, of course.

The Annexe was the core of Yui's lab facilities, and the ideal location for researching Lilith. Despite the reluctance of the US government to part with their prize, it was clear that the equipment, facilities, and team in place at the Annexe was more prepared to deal with the strange discovery. After a little bit of wrangling, a lot of promises, obscene back scratching, and the charms of David Sarif himself, the remains were transported. They were currently in a specialized morgue in the basement of the building, being carefully analyzed and dissected. The team had learned a lot about her biology in the past three months. A dizzying three months.

To put it into quantifiable terms, they had gone from crawling to flying in terms of understanding their enemies. It was clear that, between Lilith and the Others, there was a common ancestor or relation. She was so much more…_real_, however. Despite the clear signs of engineering, it was hard not to think that Lilith came from a more natural evolution, before being adjusted or improved. Her DNA was arranged in a quad-helix, and tightly packed with information that seemed almost redundant, even for a being as apparently complex as Lilith.

Guided by whatever Lilith had left behind in Yui from their touch, the biologist had found a few gentle hints that allowed her to unravel the DNA at a pace that would have been considered impossible. It was clear that the code was designed to be unraveled, and studied. The redundancies were apparently more than simple vestigial code: they were instructions, blue prints for the manipulation of Lilith's base matter. There were other possibilities and implications to the discovery, but they were too vast to understand now.

Naoko was the key to that. She had completed the three-tiered MAGI supercomputer five months ago to try and assist with analyzing the Others, and had turned the whole swath of its processing power on Lilith. There was no other computer in the world like it, and it was just as responsible for their frighteningly rapid advances as Yui was.

It had led them to this moment, the first step in what Yui had called the 'Evangelion Project.' An attempt to merge human and Lilithian DNA, a blueprint for the kind of weapon needed to deal with the impending arrival of the messengers, whenever that day came. The test samples, however, were Kyoko's idea.

Stored in the labs 'freezer' were collections of ovum and sperm from the Kyoto researchers, effectively on stasis. Long-term storage techniques for biological samples was something that had been pioneered with success at fertility clinics in Norway, and the Fuyutsuki team had greedily purchased as many of those storage units as possible. They stored everything they thought could be of use, from blood to tissue samples to bacterial cultures. The reproductive cells were part of that 'archive.' There were other contributers as well, but 'waste not, want not.' In terms of biological science, it was simply easier to use the samples you had access to than to find others. Truth be told, the Annexe researchers would not be the first biologists to use themselves or their tissues as part of some experiment.

There were ten ovum from Yui in the freezer, and one of those had been pierced and fertilized with a small, artificial sperm cell grown using pieces of Lilith as the building blocks. Examining the little nub now, Kyoko and Yui watched in amazement as cells were dividing, sub-dividing…Lilith liked humanity on a cellular level as well, it seemed.

"You were right," Kyoko murmured. "Perfect biological parity. In spite of the fact that Lilith exists as a life form completely outside of the rules of what we know possible…"

"…she's a lot like us," Yui finished. She took the petri dish from the tray, carefully handing it to Kyoko. The culture the sample was sitting in was enough to feed it and protect it until it could be inserted into a stable womb or womb-like environment. That would by Kyoko's job, with her toys from Berlin.

She had picked up a stable of twenty 'wombs' from Mannerheim Pharmaceuticals, devices designed for the purpose of mass-meat production without the need for large herds of stock. The tanks recreated an amniotic environment with an artificial uterine wall at the bottom. Using a specialized robotic arm to decrease the possibility of damaging the newly formed zygote, Kyoko would take their little Frankenstein's monster, and 'latch' the fertilized egg onto the wall. From there, if all things went as planned, they should see a happy, healthy, half-Lilithian baby in that tank in nine months.

Yui watched as Kyoko inserted the sample, and gently guided the arm through the amniotic culture to the floor. She imagined an embryo floating there, tethered to a placenta at the bottom of the tank. Her nose prickled, imagining the scent of blood while looking at the fluid. A carefully measured portion of Life Component Liquid was bundled into the amniotic culture, and had that distinct rust odor that screamed' blood.' It was a stop-gap measure to ensure viability of the embryo to term. The alien liquid _was_, in fact, blood, or something very much like it. It had been the one fluid of quantity in the body of Lilith, but the properties it contained went far beyond simple oxygenation purposes. Dr. Fumihiko Anno, the lead researcher on the substance, had found that LCL could be 'cheated' to work in ways similar to superconductors, could even bridge transfer of information in a manner similar to a primitive computer network. He was the one that named it LCL, the term taken from a conversation he was having in English with a British researcher.

The most curious thing he had found about the liquid was that, unlike any other portion of Lilith, it contained elements and components found on Earth's periodic table. Thanks to Dr. Anno and his prodding at the 'Tang' (Yui's term), he was now able to manufacture a synthesized version in quantity. Part of that synthesized batch was there in the womb.

"Are we still going to do the other nine?" Kyoko mumbled, her attention riveted to the egg.

"We have to," Yui said, "In order to increase a positive outcome of this experiment, we need to have as many test cases as possible."

"Oh, my," Kyoko sighed. "Ten little monkeys all in row. They'll look just like you, you know." Kyoko smiled at the thought of Yui surrounded by ten bawling miniature copies of herself. "You will be a busy mama. I'm glad we picked your samples over mine. I couldn't stand ten of me running around."

"One of you is too much as it is," Yui agreed, winking. Kyoko smirked, tweaking the controls. The process was largely automated, but there had to be some human involvement, and Kyoko, as much as she over-calibrated and multi-tested her various toys, rarely let them run completely on their own. After a tense thirty minutes, the arm receded out of the sphincter, dripping fluids.

"And there we have it," Kyoko sighed. "One baby on the order. We can get to work on the others as soon as your ready."

"Lunch, first," Yui sighed, waddling towards the lock.

* * *

"I still can't figure out how you matched up with that man," Kyoko said, shaking her head. "He seems so…" she made a face, a mock expression of dour disapproval. They were sitting in Yui's office, working over a vegetable plate. They had finished their lunches, but were still peckish. This little feast had been purloined from an office party upstairs, and somehow, Kyoko had decided it was time to talk about husbands.

Yui smiled. "Did you know Ikari is my maiden name?"

Kyoko blinked. When she had first met Yui, Gendo and her had already been married. What Yui's name before had never occurred to her. The implications caught up in a rush. "Are you saying he took _your name_?"

Yui gave a radiant grin. "It so sweet. He told me nothing in the world mattered more to him than me, so I said if that was the case, he should put my name on the wedding certificate and take it. It sounded better than Rokobungi, I claimed. I was joking, but he took it as serious as gospel. Did it even when I said I was joking." She flicked her wedding band with her thumb. "Said I was too important to be a joke."

"I never knew that," Kyoko said, surprised. It seemed so…unlike Gendo. She leaned back, shaking her head. After a moment, she said, "Martin was illiterate until he married me."

Yui choked on a piece of celery. Martin Langley had met Kyoko when she was visiting her mother's family in Berlin. He was younger than her, a member of the Heer, but it was the kind of relationship that happened very strongly and very quickly. They had married within four months against the protestations of the Zeppelin family. Kyoko had kept her maiden name of Zeppelin-Soryu, having already established it as her professional alias, but it was clear she was devoted to Martin. The time they had apart had prevented them from being able to actually try for children until now. This little bit of news seemed…

"Why did you tell me that?" Yui asked.

"I felt bad!" Kyoko said, flustered. "You just shared such an intimate detail about Gendo, I…I don't know."

Yui shook her head. "Really? Illiterate? In…in _Germany_?"

"It wasn't his fault," Kyoko replied. "His father was an awful man. He had to raise his siblings by himself. He just…never got to school. He joined the Army to try and make ends meet, and was able to…not lie, but avoid the issue."

"And he never could read?"

"He was ashamed when I found out, but I didn't care," Kyoko said. "He was learning Japanese by the time we got married, he could already speak English. He wasn't a dummy. I mean, he did so much without anyone _realizing_ he couldn't read. I helped him out. I was his tutor until he got comfortable enough to have someone else teach him." She nibbled on a baby carrot, and sighed. It was a sound of contentment. "He's retiring as a Feldwebel. That's a Staff Sergeant. He wouldn't have gotten there if he couldn't read." There was pride in that phrase.

"Is he coming here?" Yui asked.

"Yes. I wanted Asuka to be born in Japan, and I want him to come live with us. Be a house daddy. He likes that idea." She crossed her arms. "Cooking, cleaning, changing diapers. He says it seems a lot more useful than shooting things. He's probably one of the most dangerous men you'll ever meet, but so tender."

Yui had met Martin, once. He was a smallish fellow with a lean, hungry look. He looked scary, and in some ways he was, but he was also witty, polite, gentle, and observant. He was a good match for Kyoko, and Yui had long had a good impression from the meeting. "It'll be nice for him to get here," Yui agreed. "Keep him away from Naoko, though. She'll try and snatch him from you."

Kyoko laughed. "She'll have to get through me," she sighed, standing up with some effort. "All right, enough chatter. Let's go knock out the rest of our little monsters."

* * *

Yui was lying on the couch when Gendo came into the apartment. He dropped his briefcase, and sat down next to Yui's feet. He began massaging one of them, eliciting a tender gasp of surprise. "You didn't need to do that," she mumbled, still-half asleep and her eyes closed.

"You don't want me to stop," he replied, and she had to agree that she didn't. Everything below the ankles felt big, ugly, unwieldy, and agonizingly tender. Feeling her husband's fingers kneading the tired muscles and overworked tendons seemed to flow to every part of her weary being.

"I was saying nice things about you today," she murmured. "You would have been appalled."

"How was your science experiment?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I want to talk about you," she sighed, a hint of a whine in her voice. Gendo continued to work her foot, unsure of what to say. She sensed something uneasy in him. "Darling, you are not here in the apartment at the moment. What are you woolgathering?"

He swallowed, and shrugged. "The Nerv Group was officially formed today. Japan is one of the signatory nations."

"Of that I had heard…" Yui said, slowly. That was the result of a long line of discussion between NATO, ASEAN, several of the Pacific conferences. It was being spearheaded by Germany, of all places. It was one of the reasons why the term 'Kihl' had been thrown around the Ikari household so frequently.

"I was offered a commission." She opened her eyes, and worked herself up to look at him. "A significant posting, at that. Responsibility for all Nerv activities in Japan and her subordinate stations once they're organized," he said.

"That's wonderful news. Frightening news, as well," she said. "Is it because of me?"

He heard the hurt in her voice, the fear that he had become a figurehead for her own achievements in the fight against the Others. "Partially," he said, "though it has more to do with my work on the physics of AT Fields, the analysis of the fluxes and the nature of how they work. And the fact that everybody knows who I am. Being at the center of a crisis has a tendency to make people think you're either the cause or the cure."

"How honored you must feel," she said wryly. He pinched her foot, and she yelped.

"Still," he said, "I'm uneasy. Being part of the Nerv Pact means that Lilith comes under Kihl's overview."

"That makes you nervous," she said.

"Very much. I don't care for that man." The way he said it meant that he would say no more on the subject, and Yui didn't press him. "There's more," he added, "Your friend Sarif made the news today."

"Oh? Did he win big in the stocks?" she asked.

"Some of his company's combat bots are spearheading the assault to retake Buenes Aires, as well as assisting in the containment in Colombia," Gendo said. "It's a very ugly pair of campaigns, but…those bots are having some success. He's getting a lot of attention out of it."

"He was sweet on me, you know," she said. "I'll have to leave you now. Go back to Detroit. Throw myself at him until he gives me a nice big penthouse loaded with diamonds."

"He'd never take your surname," Gendo said. "And Yui Sarif sounds too much like a stripper's name."

"Oh, _now_ you grow a sense of humor," she grumbled. At that, Misato came through the front door. It was rare for her to be the last one home. Yui was so tired, she hadn't even thought of it, and Gendo had assumed Misato was in her room. "Where have you been?" Yui asked, surprised and ashamed that she had failed to notice the girl's absence.

"Out," Misato said flatly. At fourteen, Misato had entered that dangerous age all girls found themselves in at the cusp of womanhood. Things were developing, emotions were all out of kilter, and the realization that childhood was ending and something more profound was beginning twisted through every action and word.

"Obviously, but what is 'out?' This is late for you to be coming back," Yui said, forcing her voice to sound concerned rather than angry. She _was_ angry, but not at Misato. She was more mad at herself, but she doubted the girl would realize that.

"Just…out. Nothing more," she said in irritation, heading for her room.

"Misato." Gendo's voice was cool, and the girl tripped in her step. He didn't look at her, but his hands had stopped massaging Yui's foot, and were now folded neatly on her ankle. "Sit down."

Misato tittered at the edge of the hallway, before sitting herself in a chair next to the couch. "Misato," Gendo said quietly, "Yui and I care about you, and are concerned when you're out late. We don't wish to pry into your affairs. Please tell us where you were." He spoke professionally and politely, as though dealing with a difficult colleague.

"Um…" The girl had a rebellious look on her face, obviously decided between a lie and the truth. She settled, and said, "I was…at the Army recruitment office."

"What?" Yui couldn't hide the alarm in her voice.

"I was wanting to see when I could enlist. I can join at seventeen, if you give them permission!" she blurted. She had probably had a planned speech for how to do this, but the entire thing had gone right out of the window. It explained the strange hostility, the air of resistance. She was trying to establish her authority in the conversation, and coming across as angry.

It did nothing to cool Yui's twisting emotions, and the image of her son dead somewhere was replaced with Misato, dead somewhere. "No. No, I forbid it," Yui hissed.

"Why can't I make that choice for myself?" she pleaded. "Everybody talks about how dangerous the Others are, but no one knows. We're so safe here in Japan. I saw it. I _saw_ what they are. I can't forget what happened!"

"Is this about revenge?" Yui asked, shocked. "Are you wanting to join because of revenge?" The idea was so alien to Yui that it had thrown her completely off the tracks. Yui could understand fighting the Others because they were dangerous, yes. Because they were an invasive element. That it was a grapple for survival. To do so because of a need for revenge, however, was as alien as those outsiders. "Gendo, say something!" Yui blurted, too tired and too shocked to be coherent. Her husband had listened to exchange sagely, pondering what to say.

He took a breath. "Misato, do you want to fight so bad?" She nodded. Gendo shrugged.

"You'll go to the Academy or ROTC. No exceptions," he said.

"What?" both females of the household yelped.

Gendo blinked, caught off-guard by the unexpected gang-up. He coughed, and said, "Misato, I cared for your father as a good friend, and I want you to be cared for and protected because of that, and because you're worth it. I won't stop you from making those decisions, and if you need to do this, then you go and do it. Understand, though, that if you go that route, you will still go to college. You are an intelligent girl, and I do not think you're talents would be wasted as a line soldier. I think they wouldn't be put to the best use, however.

"More importantly, you are now a daughter to Yui and me. Education is as religion to Yui and I, and you will continue your education." Misato seemed stunned, unsure of whether or not to be angry, pleased, or just confused. She stood up, and hurried to her room, muttering "Yes, sir." She only called Yui and Gendo 'ma'am' and 'sir' when angry, but not wanting to keep arguing. Gendo said, "I mean that." His voice stopped her in her tracks. He continued, "You are a daughter to us. Not 'like,' 'are.'"

The girl stood still for a moment, before leaving the room more quietly. Yui looked at her husband, wonder and betrayal warring for a spot on her face. "So…you've lost points as a husband," she muttered, "But a gained a few as a dad."

He looked at her, something very much like gratitude in his eyes. She couldn't help but smile. It was impossible to stay angry at him, especially after that performance. "You'll do very well with _this_ one, too," she crooned, rubbing her stomach. She switched her feet, saying, "That one's done, now do this one."


	6. Green Haze

**August 14, 2017 - Amazonia Region, Colombia**

"There."

The attractive young woman in fatigues draped her off-hand across her rifle and pointed, leaning towards Capt. Johnathon Rico. He was all professional, and being in the jungle for a month did nothing for making human beings attractive. Then again, being in the jungle for a month made one desperate, and the woman in question looked damn good.

Of course, Roserita Tisneros had not earned the nickname 'El Sebueso de Florencia' for being the kind of lady you took home to mother. The profile and crimes of the former FARC guerrilla flashed through Rico's head, and he banished any lustful thoughts. He peered down Roserita's arm, following her finger. They were looking at a ridge line, part of the sloppy green mess that was the Amazon rain forest and part of the massive containment operation that was attempting to block northward movement by the Others.

"I don't see a trail," he murmured.

"That's the point," the woman said, cool as death. "We moved a lot over that trail without you or the government finding out about us. We use that trail, we can cut our movement to the Alpha Alpha by two days."

"Good deal," he said, pondering the strange turns that fate took. It was not too long ago that he was assisting Colombian security forces in hunting FARC through the bush. Now, except for the really bad holdouts, they had joined together in fighting the greater threat on their border. Interesting that the 'Bloodhound of Florence' was not one of those holdouts.

He sighed, and looked back at the column. They had roughly thirty men and women with them, a mixture of Rico's Special Forces Alpha Team, a FARC Cadre, and a squad of Colombian army soldiers from the newly formed Border Units. Essentially Ranger regiments, the Border Units were fast becoming experts in killing things of a non-human variety. Between the FARC Cadre and the Border squad, they were some bad operators with intent.

"Let's get moving," Rico said, "No sense in waiting here."

"Agreed," Roserita said, snapping her fingers and giving a knife hand signal in the direction of the trail. Her FARC compatriots stood, and the other soldiers followed their lead.

For five months, Rico had been here in Colombia assisting with anti-Other combat operations, and a month ago had linked up with this roving patrol. With the Buenes Ares mission happening over in Brazil, there seemed to be a lot of strange movement in the Amazonia border region, and groups like his were out to see what was what. This was, of course, largely a Colombian led circus, and he was along for the ride.

They pushed down through the trees, following what could only loosely be called a trail. It took them five hours to clear this ridge, and another five hours to climb the next. They made it to the top, established a patrol base for the night, and set out again the next morning. They followed the trail along the ridge line, shrouded by the dense vegetation, when they encountered a certain block in their movement to the designated Alpha Alpha.

Between their ridge and the next, a black swathe of scorched earth sat, with something at the end of the small valley buzzing. It was more perceived than heard, but it was a tell-tale sign that a nest of Others was established down there.

He called over the RTO, raising his immediate superior. "Castor 1, this is Cutty 3-1, over."

"Cutty 3-1, go ahead," the radio crackled.

"We've detected the presence of an Others outpost beyond the border zone at the following grid coordinates," he replied, stopping to check his wrist-mounted computer and rattle the ten-digit sequence to his superior. "Requesting guidance on how to proceed." If it was his own mission, Rico would not have asked for guidance. This wasn't an American op, though: it was Colombian. Back at the rear, Col. Zuco Yaeger knew that, and would be considering what he wanted Rico to do.

"Cutty 3-1, you are to plant a tracer as close to the source as possible and wait for further guidance," came the reply.

"Roger, Castor 1, Cutty 3-1 out." He handed back the radio, and waved forward SSGT Rumor Miles. The skinny man hobbled forward under his ruck. "Set a tracer down…see where that boulder is, in the center of the burnout?" He pointed with his arm, and the Texan nodded, unslinging a tube from his ruck.

"I'll have it beeping in a moment, boss," he said, scooting forward to a better position and arming the tube. He took aim, called, "Clear the rear."

"Rear is clear," Rico chanted, having ensured that the small backblast of the tracer tube was devoid of friendlies. Rumor depressed the trigger, and a pop and hiss filled the air as a dart the length of a forearm sped towards the target. It buried itself without a sound.

"What was that?" Roserita asked. Rico smiled.

"You will see in…five minutes," he said, scanning his watch.

* * *

"Look at that," he commented at precisely five minutes later. Roserita followed his gaze. A large, multi-engined jet was loitering over the area, bottom bays opening like bomb bay hatches. "That would be the reinforcements," he said happily.

Like eggs, small black orbs dropped from the plan, orienting themselves and firing towards the scorched valley. They embedded themselves with resounding booms, before legs unfolded from the pods and oriented them. A troop of about thirty Sarif-made Widowmakers had arrived, scanning the valley and moving towards the nest at the end. They fired at unseen things, their sensitive sensors and on-board Akagi scopes detecting hidden Others. As they moved, something began firing back. Streams of smoke jetted from the Others position, something pinging off the dense hulls of the Widowmakers. It was unlike anything Rico had encountered in dealing with the others.

Something was shooting back, and they weren't the beams of a projected AT Field.

"That's new," he murmured.

Something else had appeared on the field, now, at the edges of the tree line. The entities that had appeared could be considered to be Others, Rico supposed, but they had a fleshy, pulpy appearance. They were bipedal, man-like in shape while clearly not human. Human shapes were fine; they were more fragile than some of the other forms he had encountered. There were features about them he didn't like, however.

For one thing, they had weapons. Cobbled together in appearance, they were still quite lethal, leaving scorch marks on the spider tanks. For another thing…

"Those animals are using _tactics_," Roserita sneered. "Basic tactics, but they're maneuvering and thinking."

"This is a _troubling_ development," Rico said crisply. He saw no tell-tale flicker of AT Fields about them, watching as they fell or exploded when struck by fire. Still…one tank went down, followed by another. The assault was pushing the Others back, but the Others were fighting more like a human army than an alien, animal presence. It was the clearest indication he had seen, personally, that they were fighting a thinking and planning enemy, rather than some alien ecosystem in a place it didn't belong.

"Behind us!" someone cried, and the jungle burst into smoke and violence. Rico turned, firing instinctively at a shape in the bush, when something loomed up next to him. It was seven foot tall and spindly, its appearance greasy and fleshy. It's bulbous 'head' had no facial features of any sort, but it seemed to be leering at him as it's weapon came to bear. He collided with the barrel using his own rifle as a shield. The weapon fired, and burning smell of ozone filled the air.

Someone was screaming, and he felt boots on his shoulder as Roserita used him as a platform to launch herself at the creature. She collided in a mess of limbs and hate, and the thing fell beneath her. She was stabbing at it with a knife. Rico turned his back to her, continuing to fire on the creatures as they appeared. As quickly as it began, it was over, the things melting into the foliage.

"ACE reports," he screamed, the sound Roserita screaming and stabbing behind him. He turned a hooked an arm through hers as the knife came up again, her arm and face greasy with black ichor. The animal part of her resisted slightly, but she was still. "ACE reports, Roserita," he said quietly, "Let's check up on our column."

An explosion in the valley echoed over the ridge, one of the spider tanks bursting. Its compatriots were still marching on, heedless of the loss. Roserita turned and watched it, still somewhat lost in her blood lust. She regarded the smear beneath her that had been her foe. Shuddering as adrenaline burned away unused, she stood. "ACE reports," she repeated, and turned to her troops.

Ammo was counted, casualties assessed, and equipment inventoried. They had burned through forty percent of their magazines, hadn't lost anything of significant value, but they had five wounded and three dead. MSG Julius Pride brought a pad over to Rico, the notes tallied.

"We got off lucky. I guess it was just a patrol," he murmured.

"When did the Others ever send out patrols?" Roserita hissed. "Look at that," she added, kicking the bulky device next to the one she dispatched. "Weapons. When did they start building weapons?"

"I can just imagine what's happening in Buenes Ares right now," Rico murmured. Lt. Escobar Delamont, the Border Unit officer and youngest member of their combined leadership, hurried over to the powwow.

"The RTO is getting orders for us to go to the alternate Alpha Alpha," he said. "Outposts are getting hit all along the border. Something new." He gestured to the body. Rico said nothing, turning and looking down into the valley. The spider walkers were advancing, clearly driving their foes back, when a white beam of light sliced one in half. A large, three-legged entity crunched forward, the strange soldier Others taking up clear flanking positions around it to defend it. With the presence of that thing in the valley, with it's AT Field, and without adequate infantry to support their advance, the robotic tanks were done.

"Gather up the casualties," Roserita said, "Leave the dead. Take what we can carry and go." Rico was an American soldier, and believed in leaving no one back. The Colombians played by different rules here, however, and this was not his show. He nodded to Pride, who went to assist.

The patrol geared up and moved out, Rico having the sense that the world had become a stranger and more hostile place than it already had been.


	7. Small Details

**May 3, 2019 - Nerv-Japan Headquarters, Sengokuhara, Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan**

Shinji was pulling Rei's hair again, and Rei was fussing. "Stop that, you brute," Yui mumbled, leaning back from her desk and regarding the playpen with a glare. Shinji continued to tug at the locks, and Rei continued to mewl, not really doing much to defend herself. Yui rolled her eyes, and left her desk. Time for a mommy break.

It wasn't that Shinji was mean, but he was _curious_, and his little sister was just _so_ interesting. No other child had red eyes, or blue hair, or skin so white, so he kept poking and pulling and prodding at her like she was a teddy bear, trying to figure out what made her tick. Rei was less than amused by the attention, and was becoming a real mama's girl to escape the abuse. Yui grabbed Shinji, muttering, "Come here, you jerk," and picked up the boy. He whined a bit, being removed from his activity, and Rei began to get weepy, bobbing up on her legs and raising her arms. It was simply too much to be picked on, then not be the one to receive attention.

Gendo entered the office, and Yui cheered. "Oh, good. Reinforcements. Take this thing," she ordered, handing the boy to Gendo. The man made a face, caught off guard and hesitant to hold his son while wearing a uniform. The boy threatened to cry being removed from his mother, and then he found Gendo's beard, and made himself busy by tugging at it.

"Is he picking on Rei again?" Gendo asked, ignoring the little fingers hooked into the beard. He had fallen asleep plenty of times as his son endeavored to pull the thing out by the roots, so having him do it while awake was little concern.

"Only because he likes her," Yui said. "He'll be an affectionate brother, assuming she can survive him for the next couple of years." She picked up her daughter, who immediately hid her face against her mother's neck.

Shinji had by now worked Gendo's glasses off of his face. Gendo let him play with the specs, which were durable enough to survive a weight being dropped on them, much less a 18-month old child. "I came by to ask how the Evangelion papers are coming."

"They're coming, when I don't have to play peacekeeper," she sighed, turning back to the desk and sliding some sheafs around with her free hand. It was time's like this she seriously considered dropping them off in the daycare, but she always fought that instinct down. "I've figured out how to take the initial culture we developed with Rei, and boost it more towards Lilith than me to get something a bit more…well, in _your_ line of work." She snuggled Rei, thinking how odd it was that such a gentle and sweet thing was basically the prototype for what she was conceiving in this office.

Gendo glanced over her work, and saw something scribbled on the side. "What's this mean? Pilot?"

"I don't like the idea of using living, thinking weapons," Yui sighed, "It's too uneasy a line for me between living organism and slave. I think I can create something that will mimic a living creature but require a source to work. You know…a pilot."

"That sounds like more work and more time," Gendo said. It was a reasonable question, and one she would be asked herself.

"If we fight the Others, we need to do it as humans. We have to make concessions, yes, but too many and we won't be able to go back. This is as close to a compromise as I can figure," she explained.

The office door opened again, and Kyoko entered. "How's Master Blaster and Mini-Me?" she asked.

"Spoiling for a fight, and stop calling her Mini-Me!" Yui hissed. "Here, go bother Aunt Kyoko for a spell." She handed Rei over, who regarded the other woman with wide eyes. As soon as the transfer was complete, she resumed her policy of hiding her face against her latest handler. "Traded one mommy hiding place for another. Traitor," she crooned, scratching the little girl's back.

"Naoko wanted to let you know about the figures she was running through MAGI on the other nine little monkeys," Kyoko said, smiling. Yui's face went wooden; Kyoko had given her a forced smile. Her friend sighed, abandoning her attempt to be cheery. "I'm sorry, Yui, but we still can't understand it. Rei's so resilient, but remove the others from the LCL culture for too long…" Kyoko shrugged. "I mean, MAGI is crunching numbers and then some. There's still a chance to find out why they're…doing what they do."

"It doesn't make sense," she sighed. It truly didn't. On a genetic level, Rei and her sisters were perfect copies. And yet, Rei was like a rubber ball. Yui had remembered when the little girl and Shinji were up and starting to get some scoot in their walking. Rei had run head first into the corner of a coffee table and cut the skin on her nose between her eyes. She screamed bloody murder, Shinji cried because he didn't know what was happening, and Yui had called Gendo in terror saying that Rei was bleeding and she was going to die and he needed to do something _right now_. It was a complete 'new mother breakdown' reflex, and the trip to the infirmary had been more relaxed. Expecting to give Rei her first stitches, the doctor was confused as to why she came. There was blood, but no wound.

After a series of very strenuous experiments (for Yui, that was—she was reluctant to subject Rei to anything else following the coffee table), it was determined that Rei's body had a highly adaptive and hyperactive autoimmune system and restructuring abilities. Kyoko theorized that if the girl was to lose a limb or even an organ, the lost item would regenerate in time.

Her sisters were not nearly so lucky. When removed from their tanks, they would begin to develop signs of neurological decay. One girl nearly suffered organ failure, and two had gone into cardiac arrest, truly terrifying moments for Yui. And yet, when placed immediately back in their tanks, they were fine.

That was all well and good, as the LCL was oxygenated and kept at a warm, comforting temperature. For Yui, that wasn't good enough. She had taken to spending Sundays in what was called the 'super-tank,' where she could immerse herself in LCL and actually touch and interact with the other nine. Dr. Anno's contuining research into LCL had determined that it could be 'breathed' when cycled and oxygenated. Breathing liquid was odd the first time she had done it, but Yui had done it so often that it was as natural was walking now. Kyoko, who had become the primary researcher of the 'little monkeys,' also used the tank, trying to condition them to human interaction as much as possible, considering they couldn't do so like normal children.

"It doesn't make sense," Gendo agreed. He wasn't a biologist by any stretch, but he understood enough from listening to Kyoko and Yui, and discussing his wife's research with her. "Considering their identical genetics. Maybe it's something more intrinsic. Have you considered the nature of their AT Fields?"

"Yes, but we simply lack the ability to understand how one works over the other at this time," Kyoko explained. "I did tell Naoko to account for that in MAGI's calculations," she said to Yui, "So maybe we'll see what the results are from that." Yui nodded, tired suddenly. She nuzzled her daughter from the back, and the girl whimpered, feeling her mother's unhappiness.

"Is Asuka in the daycare?" Yui asked, changing the subject.

Kyoko nodded."Probably setting something on fire. I think she's smarter than the staff down there, and with a matching aptitude for destruction." Kyoko sighed. Yui retrieved Rei.

"Bring her up here. Drop her in with these two, that'll be fun for them," Yui said.

"Yui, that would be _way_ too much noise for you to work to, and I don't want to make you watch Asuka," Kyoko sighed. Yui shrugged.

"You'll be closer to her if she's here than all the way over at the center, and it gives you an excuse to drop by more often," Yui insisted. Martin would have been the one watching Asuka, but he had heard of opportunities in Nerv for former military men. Kyoko couldn't disagree with his curiosity, as it could double their income. While he was being put through psychological evaluations, background checks, the whole nine yards, Asuka had been sent to stay with her mother at work.

Gendo put his boy back down in the pen, saying, "Kyoko, since you're here, could I ask you to watch the kids a moment while I steal my wife for a few minutes?"

"Certainly," she said, as Yui put Rei next to her brother. He went back to tugging at her hair, but she merely began sucking her fingers, remarkably more tolerant of his attentions this time.

Yui followed Gendo into the hallway, walking with him a ways. "I need your professional opinion for our budget report," he said.

"That's why you wanted to talk about the Evangelion Project?" she asked. He said nothing, but he didn't have to. "Each unit is, in all likelihood, going to be in the range of 140 feet by 200 feet tall."

"Good God," he murmured. "What exactly are these Messengers were expecting?"

"Awful. Sheer, miserably awful. I only got glimpses of them, but those shadows linger with me," Yui said. She closed her eyes, making a second calculation. "If your thinking paddocks, give them 70 feet by 35 feet. That will be sufficient for them standing; I'd be hesitant to make something that big lie down. We'd have to come up with some sort of combination of suspension system and LCL pooling system to take weight off them when they're down and regenerating."

"How much LCL do you anticipate each unit having?"

"Something in the range of 2.2 million gallons…each. We can afford that, right?" He grimaced.

"I'll run the reports by Gehirn," he sighed. Nerv was actually part of a two-branch organization. Translating from German into 'nerve,' the Nerv Group was what could be considered Research and Development, Intelligence, and Tactical Operations. The Gehirn Council, translating into 'brain,' was the central directorate for all Nerv operations, including a Finance Division, Policy Group, and it's own Research and Development branch. It was based in Frankfurt, and there was no secret the group was beholden to its chairman, Lorenz Kihl. That would be a problem; Kihl was sore at Gendo over the firefight concerning Lilith's remains. He had demanded that all research findings, samples, even Rei and her siblings, be moved to the Nerv facility that had been constructed in Cologne. He almost had his way, too: being a German meant a lot these days, especially when one had the influence of Kihl. France had been knocked down significantly followed the Marseilles Outbreak, and being the primary European force to deploy to Africa in containment operations, the traditional powerhouse of Europe found it easier to hand decisions in the European Union over to its traditional rivals. With a massive economy, huge military force, and stable social situation, it was now said that to get to Brussels, go by way of Berlin.

"I'm amazed that they can get so large," he commented. "Lilith was not very big in comparison."

"She was a living encyclopedia of genetic potential," Yui said. "One little sample of her flesh, combined with human cells, can, with the right push, create anything we want. Honestly, we could probably fund the whole thing ourself based just on the medical patents we can come out with."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you heard of the issue with prosthetics and Darrow Deficiency Syndrome?" Gendo nodded. Essentially, any prosthetic that was required to feel required a sympathetic nervous response from the host's brain and nervous system. Unfortunately, the technology used to create those junctions between artificial and natural nerves could not prevent the body's natural rejection of the foreign object, building glial nerve tissue and scarring around the intrusive object. DDS was the result of that rejection, a gradual collapse of the nerves similar to Lou Gehrig's Disease.

"What if I told you that as a side affect…a _side_ affect…of our research, we've found a way to permanently do away with DDS without the use of constant and costly drug therapy?"

"You have something like that," Gendo said, flatly. It was news to him, but he was surprised and pleased. Yui nodded, smiling.

"We drop a line to Sarif, and the Americans, who already _adore_ us, will back us up in anything that has to happen in Gehirn."

Gendo smiled. "Sarif has to be over the moon for you by now. He'll definitely want to steal you away by the end of the year."

"I'm not doing this for _him_, lover, I'm doing this for you. And us. And Shinji. And especially Rei." Yui fixed her husband with a deadly look. "I will _not _forget or forgive that man for trying to take them away." Gendo stopped, seeing her tense. She had suddenly become stiff, and defensive, still frightened and furious at the mere memory of that awful time. He tucked a finger under her chin and kissed her gently, and she relaxed.

"Did you know I have reservations at Firo tonight?" he whispered.

"You liar," she said, scoffing. Firo was a restaurant that had been started by an American chef from Napa Valley, who had moved to Japan to be with his wife. It was one of Yui's favorite places to eat, and a pricey treat. On a Nerv Director's salary, less expensive, but hardly a weekly event.

"I was going to surprise you after work. I had Misato promise to watch the kids."

"You think of everything, lover. You kept Lilith for me, you kept Rei for us. You'll get our facilities." She kissed him on the nose, and walked back to her office.

* * *

The duck here was Gendo's favorite. It was tender enough to cut with a fork, and he would rarely chew it, just let it sit on his tongue with its melting overplay of butter and sweet and salt. Yui was a fiend for the fish platters, and was enjoying a tilapia fillet that had been smothered in goat cheese and spices. It took talent to make something as bland as tilapia a delicacy, but the chefs here were not mere mortals. They were magicians, and knew their trade.

"…I just wish I could factor the Capstone into our research," Yui said quietly, stirring the rice on her plate. They were free to speak about sensitive topics here: Gendo had had the place swept by men from the Security Section of Tactical, and three of them had their dates scattered around the room, enjoying a meal on Gendo's own check. It was one of the reason's they kept their visits to Firo for special occasions.

"I still don't even know what the Capstone is," Gendo said, sipping his wine. "That frightens me most. It's clear that Lilith placed some importance on it."

"But what is it?" Yui asked, suddenly agitated. "Is it a…an object, or a concept? A phase?"

Gendo scratched his nose. Yui had kept information concerning the Capstone to herself as far as Nerv was concerned, primarily because she knew little beyond what Lilith had told her. A name was not enough to go by, in the scheme of things, and the more time went on, the more nervous she became trying to figure out what was meant by that ambiguous term. The Capstone…

He nudged her wineglass a little closer to her, clearing his throat. Yui blinked, and chuckled. She raised the glass, and shrugged. "I'm sorry, honey. We have a night to ourselves, and I can't stop thinking of work."

"Start thinking of the blood orange torte," he said. Her eyes brightened, and her lips pursed in a way that he found adorable. He was pleased that his ploy seemed to have worked, and now she was looking forward to dessert over vague threats of the future.

In truth, though, he himself was still thinking about work, and doing his best not to. With the appearance of Others who behaved in more intelligent and coordinated ways beyond simple flock mechanics and herd/pack instincts—especially tool and weapon using ones—the war had taken a strange turn. On the one hand, it was a very unnerving implication to be fighting against an enemy that was intelligent in defending its territory, and may seek to claim more beyond the random appearance of fluxes. On the other, military leaders the world over released a collective sigh of relief. _This_ was a fight they could understand.

He had, a week ago, unveiled a new element to that fight which had the Japanese, American, British, and French military delegation visiting the Headquarters begin plotting whole new campaigns against the Others. The spastic round, or spasmodic resonance and fluctuation bolt, to be more precise, was, for all intents and purposes, a mere bullet. The rounds used in the demonstration were of the 5.56 variant, for instance, and fired from a Japanese Seburo 511 assault carbine. Each round was filled with a small core of infused and charged LCL, which would emit an erratic burst of KL Particles on impact with a sympathetic flux. Specifically, an AT Field.

The theory was that, once enough rounds struck an AT Field, the Field would overload, cascade, and collapse, possibly even stunning the entity maintaining the field. That was all theory, of course, but it was something that got the collective soldiers chattering amongst themselves, plotting field tests for the device by way of combat drones.

Gendo found that Yui was staring at him. "Now _you're_ thinking of work. Fine pair we are," she murmured.

"I was just thinking about the spastic rounds," he mumbled. "I hope they work as intended."

"They will," she said. "I trust everything Anno has done with his research on LCL. You should, too. Now…no more work. I'll be a good girl, and enjoy my dinner. Tell me about how pretty I look, instead," she said. Gendo could do that, easily. He did so for the rest of the night.

* * *

Yui and Gendo returned home to find Misato asleep on the couch, Shinji draped on top of her like a sloth, and the television playing the menu for _Supper Sammy_ over and over. Shinji was using Misato's already ample bosom as a pillow. Most amusingly of all was Naoko's girl. Ritsuko had come over to hang out with Misato and keep her company. She was asleep on the floor with Shinji's pacifier in her mouth.

"That boy's going to be a heart breaker," Yui grumbled, picking up the sleeping child. As the warmth and weight of the boy vanished, Misato snuffled and woke up.

"Oh. I'm so sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's fine," Gendo whispered. "Where's Rei?"

"She went to bed without fuss. Shinji wasn't having any, so I put on a cartoon to try and zonk him out," Misato said, sitting up. Her shirt was covered in drool, and she brushed at it ineffectively.

"I thought Pen-Pen was helping with that," Gendo asked a little louder, Yui having vanished to the back of the house. Misato stood up, woozy.

"Of course, he does. That stupid penguin is as big as he is," Misato said, "Thinks its the coolest thing there is. But he's so _clingy._" Her hair was knotted where the boy had been tugging at it, and she brushed it with her fingers. She had presented the stuffed animal to Shinji just today, as a means to try and get him to stop prodding Rei. It was a sweet gesture, especially as she had bought the bird with her own cash. Shinji had seemed quite taken with it, and when Yui and Gendo left, he was wrestling with the thing, giggling manically the whole while.

"Have you had dinner?" Yui asked, coming back from the hallway.

Misato nodded. "Ritz made some ramen. I wasn't very hungry tonight." As they were speaking, Ritsuko's eyes fluttered. The girl sat up, the pacifier working for a moment before she realized it was there and removed it in confusion.

"Sorry," Misato said, "Shinji thought he was helping." She turned to her mom. "Ritz fell asleep during episode seventeen. Shinji popped his soother in her mouth. He was very serious about it." Misato's eyes had a twinkle in them at that.

"You're not a very good friend," Ritsuko mumbled, seeing Yui and Gendo in the kitchen. "Hello Dr. Ikari, Director Ikari. Did you have a pleasant night?" Yui smiled at the girl.

"Yes, Ritsuko, thank you," she said sweetly.

The two girls were good friends, but couldn't be more different. Ritsuko was a quiet, brainy girl with rosy brown hair, a skinny frame, and a shy demeanor. She had a small mole under her left eye, something that Yui had found charming in a way. Misato, on the other hand, had grown into a more aggressive, more assertive, and more athletic individual, her hair having become a more violet shade as she grew older. She was more fragile than she let on, and Ritsuko seemed more stable than her quiet ways implied. She was a year older than Misato, and seemed to treat the girl as kind of a younger sister.

Their friendship was probably sealed, Yui considered, when Misato had broken Ritsuko's ex-boyfriend's nose with a basketball. It had gotten her grounded for two weeks, but Ritsuko had proved a devoted fan of Misato from that moment on.

"It's kind of late," Yui said, looking at the clock, "But tomorrow's Saturday. Why don't you stay over? The bed in the guest room is made."

"She can just share my bed," Misato said, "That way we can talk without waking you up."

"That's fine," Ritsuko said, dropping the pacifier in the sink. She still seemed half-asleep.

"Come on, I've got some spare pajamas," Misato said. She wished the Ikaris a good night, Ritsuko shuffling after her.

"That's not odd, is it?" Gendo asked, a strange look on his face after the girls were gone. Yui glanced after the girls, then back to Gendo, and crinkled her nose at him.

"No, it's not. I used to do the same thing with my friends when I was in high school."

"I don't…have to have a talk about that, then? I'm not very good with those kinds of talks." He sounded immensely relieved when he said it.

"No, you don't, you weirdo," she said, rinsing off the pacifier. "All you need to worry about is how to get the funding we need for the production facility."

"And the storage container, and the repair bays, _and_ the training facility, _and_ the transportation methods…" he began listing, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"I knew this was in good hands," Yui said, pecking her husband on the cheek.


	8. Saturday

Naoko was in the Vault when Ritsuko tapped a fingernail on the glass. The scientist turned, and smiled when she saw her daughter. The girl had a shy look on her face, and tried to smile back. Naoko mentally kicked herself, waving away a flood of projected data that hovered nearby like a swarm of butterflies.

She was having lunch with her daughter today. She had forgotten completely.

Opening the Vault's main door, she said, "Pumpkin, I'm so sorry. You didn't have trouble getting through Security, did you?"

"No," the girl said quietly, "I showed them my badge. It worked."

"Excellent," Naoko said, kissing her daughter on the side of the head, "Did you have fun at the Ikaris?"

"Yes," she said. "Misato and I stayed up until two talking."

"I'm surprised you're awake right now," Naoko commented.

"We were having lunch," Ritsuko replied, as if that was all the reason. She added, defensively, "Besides, Misato kept stealing all the blankets. I didn't really sleep at all."

"And you stole her shirt," Naoko commented, perusing the stylish t-shirt. It was not the sort of thing that Ritsuko normally wore herself, but it fit well, and suited her. Normally, it was the other way around; Misato was such a tomboy, she had to beg and plead Ritsuko for one of her more feminine items in last minute emergencies.

"It's her favorite one," Ritsuko said, a little bit of delightful conspiracy in her tone. "I thought it was a fair trade."

"It looks better on you," Naoko chided, beginning the shutdown sequence for the Vault. She didn't like to ignore her daughter, and she knew she had been. That was the problem with being a genius, Naoko thought without pride. As the primary architect for MAGI, as well as the lead engineer in its construction and implementation, there had been no one else who could adequately understand and utilize its core functions the same way Naoko could. She had a team she was training, but when working together at their best, they could only accomplish 60% of what Naoko could alone.

Ironically, she was in the midst of organizing a tutorial and training program when Ritsuko had tapped on the glass. Letting her irritation at herself seep out, Naoko brought her attention back to the shirt. "Looking at that shirt makes me think. Want to go shopping?"

"I have plenty of clothes, mom," Ritsuko said quietly, following her mom out of the lab.

"Yeah, but I haven't kept up with fashion, and I'd like to see what's what these days."

"It's all neo-Renaissance stuff," Ritsuko said, becoming a little louder. Clothing was something she enjoyed keeping an eye on, especially the newer fashions. The patterns that had come out of Canada and the United States were becoming popular in Japan as well, things that celebrated isometric shapes or elegant fashions from Renaissance Europe, often elegantly blending the two. Something in the form appealed to Ritsuko's mind.

"That doesn't look anything like what's in your wardrobe," Naoko noted, keying the door lock behind her.

"Well, it's kind of expensive right now. All the designers are starting to put the fashion out there, but its still new."

"What have I spent money on besides bills?" Naoko insisted. "We can stand to do some clothes shopping."

"But first lunch," Ritsuko said, a happy note in her voice.

* * *

Ritsuko picked at the food in her bento box, hungry but not hungry. She was alert in that way you could only be after missing a night's sleep, which meant everything was topsy-turvy and feeling uneven. That included her ability to pack away food.

"What schools have you looked at?" Naoko asked, and Ritsuko squirmed a bit in her chair. The topic of colleges had yet to be discussed today, and it was getting close to time for Ritsuko to find a place to attend. She knew it would be time to talk about it, but she wasn't eager to.

"Kyoto, obviously," she began. Yui talked about her time there, and Naoko nodded. "That's a good school, and with a mom working in Nerv," Naoko winked at her daughter, "Tuition is a non-issue."

"Dr. Fuyutsuki suggested Tokyo University, though," Ritsuko continued, feeling a little braver at the praise. "He said they had a better computer engineering department."

Naoko pondered that. Naoko herself had not gone to school in Japan, instead studying abroad in the United States at MIT in Boston. She had heard that Tokyo University's technology schools had begun to expand in recent years, but she was so focused on work at Nerv that she had admittedly neglected keeping track of what was happening in academia.

"He said he would write a letter of recommendation wherever I wanted to go," she said quietly.

"Of course he would. You're smart, you're a hard worker, and he knows talent," Naoko said,

"Maybe," Ritsuko said, some distance in her voice.

"Why 'maybe?'" Naoko asked, concerned. There was a note of self-degradation in the tone of that word. Ritsuko shrugged, and said nothing. It slowly dawned on Naoko, and she kicked herself for the second time today.

Ritsuko and Naoko didn't have a troubled relationship, but it was an uneven one. Naoko tried to show Ritsuko attention and affection when she could, but being a single-parent in her situation was hard. Harder, perhaps, then if she had a hard job with a more regular work schedule. Being in her position, she set her own hours, and sometimes those hours became…highly unreasonable.

Which meant Ritsuko wanted to make the most of the attention that she got. Which meant she wasn't living her life for herself, but for her mom. Which _meant_ that Ritsuko wasn't looking at schools because she thought she was good enough, or she wanted to attend a school for this reason or that. She was looking for the school that would get Naoko's attention and praise.

Naoko quietly clacked her chopsticks together, a Morse-code like rhythm as she pondered it. Ritsuko's eyes were down on the table.

"Ritz," she said, leaning forward. "What if I take the next two weeks off and we go look at colleges. Just us girls."

Ritsuko seemed aghast. "Eh…two weeks? In the middle of school? I'd…I can't do that!"

"Of course you can. You have the great Dr. Naoko Akagi as your mom. And if _that_ doesn't impress them, I'll send Director Ikari down to scare them silly," Naoko said, a glint in her eyes. "Let's do that. Last minute and everything. We'll find a school _you_ like."

Ritsuko stared at her mom, two emotions at war in her eyes. "Um…I guess…"

"It's a deal!" Naoko said, "It's happening. No take-backs!" Ritsuko steel had an uncomfortable expression on her face, but Naoko detected the slightest relaxation in her daughter's shoulders. Eventually, Ritsuko smiled. It was still shy, but a natural expression. The kind that a mother loved to see on her daughter's face.

* * *

Misato couldn't figure out for the life of her where her black Gecko Sin t-shirt had gone. She had woken up thirty minutes ago, and was still scrounging for it when Yui popped her head into her room. "The dead liveth again, I see," the woman chided. "I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"What t-shirt was Ritsuko wearing when she left?" Misato asked, suddenly suspicious.

"A black 'Gecko Sin' one."

"Frigging Ritz," she mumbled.

"Now that you're amongst the living again," Yui said, changing the subject, "Perhaps we could go get lunch?"

"What about the munchkins?" Misato asked.

"Gendo can watch them," Yui said. "Come on. Get dressed, we'll go get some food."

"Can I drive?" Misato asked brightly.

"I'll _think_ about it," Yui said, rolling her eyes and exiting the room. Misato settled for one of the Wargod t-shirts she had from her jiu-jitsu school. Yui might roll her eyes at it, but whatever.

She met Yui at the front door, and sure enough, her surrogate mom released a huge sigh. "You are _such_ a boy. What am I going to do with you?"

"Buy me lunch," Misato said sweetly. "Can I drive, puh-leeese?"

"Yes, you can drive. But the radio is mine." She tossed the keys to Misato, and followed the girl out to the car, calling good-bye to her husband as she went. She had just let herself into the vehicle when her cell phone rang.

"Kozo-sensei!" Yui said cheerfully. She had _never_ in the entire time she had known him referred to him as Dr. Fuyutsuki, or Fuyutsuki-sensei, or sir, or anything like that. She had had his number pegged from the moment she took her first class from him, and he freely admitted that he was easily bullied by her. They were, in his words, 'two old souls,' those rare kind of individuals who, despite age, gender, ethnicity, background, any of those details, formed an instant and powerful bond.

"Hello, Yui," her mentor said cheerfully. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Actually, I'm in the car with Misato, but," the girl was waving her hand vaguely, "It seems I have permission to talk. What can I do for you?"

"I just read an email from Kyoko that's been sitting in my box since yesterday. She was wanting to see if I had any suggestions on what to with the clones you've been having difficulty with."

"My daughters?" Yui said, raising an eyebrow.

"Forgive me. Your _daughters_," Kozo said sheepishly, "I'm not going to harass you for the details right now, but I was wondering if I could stop by your office for the details, and maybe visit the girls for an eyes perspective."

"You're free to, but I'd advise going to the lab and skipping the office visit. Kyoko's terminal has more information on the girls then my computer."

"I'll do that. I hope I can give fresh eyes on the issue," he said. She thanked him, and he hung up. Yui felt a little brush of optimism rising again. If anybody could solve the problem of the girls' health, it would be Kozo Fuyutsuki. She sighed, and steeled herself for a day with her oldest daughter.

* * *

While the girls were gone, Gendo babysat. He had set up a playpen in the center of the living room where he could watch the two while he worked on budget reports on the couch. If he was going to make a request for Yui's over the top plans, he had to make sure all his ducks were in a row before tackling that nest of thorns. He had made it through the first stack when he glanced over to see if the kids were still breathing.

They were. In fact, both had their hands on the top of the playpen's fence and were studying him with great intent. He looked at the budget sheets, then back at the kids. Rei made a warbling sound of curiosity.

"You want to play with daddy?" he asked. They didn't understand what he had said, but they sure liked that he was talking to him, and both giggled, yanking at the fence.

"I guess that's a yes," he said, putting away the reports. He turned on the television, deciding to listen to the news while letting his kids free range for a bit. He sat on the floor and crossed his legs. Rei was easy to deal with; she was such a clingy child, that all one really needed to do was make themselves accessible to her. Then she would latch on to a leg, or work herself onto a lap, and be as content as a frog on a lily pad. Shinji was the real issue; he could get himself into trouble if you weren't watching him.

Sure enough, Rei clambered into the space between Gendo's crossed legs, establishing something of a fort in there where she and her teddy bear could sit. Shinji began waddling across the room, not terribly fast but determined to set records. "Going places in a hurry, buddy?" Gendo asked, half-an ear on the television.

"…separatist bombings in Dallas, Houston, and Austin have left the State of Texas reeling in the wake of what has been called 'the worst domestic terror attack in the United States since the September 11 Attacks. Gov. Raul Fernandez has called upon the Federal Government for assistance in bringing to heel those responsible. Agents of the Homeland Security Department believe that the Sons of the Republic, a group known for its recent bank robberies in Louisiana, to be the primary party responsible. In response, the reward for information leading to the capture of the group's leader, Jerry Bartlett, has been tripled.

"In other news from the United States, President Winifred Pace has issued a statement defending her policies of military involvement in Central America, saying that the 'security of America's backyard rests in the continued safety and well-being of her regional neighbors.' The President has been under attack by isolationist groups recently, especially in light of a growing and militant separatist network. Those concerns were voiced today by Sen. Lloyd Beauregard, who used the recent Texas bombings as an illustration for the need to bring military forces home. He has also called for expanding FEMA's role in its ability to deal with emergencies, citing terrorism and civil unrest as grounds for emergency response and management.

"Meanwhile, China and Russia continue to criticize the Nerv Pact, calling it a clear attempt by Western and Western-aligned nations to take advantage of the Third World in the wake of the Arrival Day disasters. Though united in their criticism of the Pact, neither country has offered differing solutions to the need for unity in the face of continued attacks from the Others. Russia continues to push its Slavic Alignment option, as proposed by President Feofan Hrechinyuk and the so-called Cossack Duma. Critics say this policy has contributed to continued destabilization in the Balkans and Eastern Europe. China, meanwhile, has continued to pursue its Sinic Unity policies, continuing to place further restrictions on its central regions while allowing the cities of Hong Kong, Hengsha, Shanghai, Nanjing, and Beijing continued 'free trade' status with the world.

"The country of Iraq is now officially no more, according to a press release issued by the Prime Minister's office in analysis of the Middle Eastern situation. Forces from the Pan-Arab Union and the Islamic Republic moved into northern and southern Iraq in response to requests from leaders in the respective Sunni and Shiite camps, while the Kurdish region has declared an official state of Kurdistan, in opposition to strong protests from Turkey. This is the latest development in growing cold war between Mecca and Tehran, as the Arab and Persian world continue to align against one another. Growing fears of a potential hot war have risen, as have the involvement of the traditional outside actors in the region…"

"That's enough of the news," Gendo mumbled, switching the channel over to something else. It was surreal to him that, with the fact that something as profound as life from _somewhere else_ was amongst them, even in a hostile manner, humanity still found time to screw itself over. Politics would always be politics. Whether aliens, angels, or God Himself came, that was the way of the world.

He paused on channel that was much more pleasant for the afternoon. It was an instrumental performance of the Cold Genius Solo from Henry Purcell's _King Arthur_. He felt compelled to watch, as the performer was the female cellist Taki Nomura. He had followed her career with decided interest, being a fan of music. It was odd to hear a cellist performing the relatively simple Cold Genius Solo, a traditional bass performance that had become a favorite among male sopranos following its rendition by Klaus Nomi. In Ms. Nomura's hands, however, it had taken a haunting, curious vibe, something that made Gendo feel quite transported. He felt something next to him, and he turned to see Shinji. The boy's hand was in his mouth, and he was staring in rapt attention at the television. Gendo pondered this, then stood up, taking Rei with him. He walked into his room and grabbed his digital music device, and came back. Sure as sure, Shinji was still staring at the cellist.

"Hey, buddy," he said, plugging the player into the television and switching over to the audio player. "Listen to this." He keyed up Variations I-IV, the classic cello piece written by Andrew Lloyd Weber and performed by his brother Julian Weber. When the music began, Shinji's eyes widened, and he began bobbing up and down in excitement.

"Music lover, huh?" Gendo said. He looked at Rei. She wasn't getting into the groovy tune as much as Shinji seemed to be, but she stared at the screen with rapt attention. "Two music lovers. That is good to know," Gendo thought. Better to know about then the news, that was for sure. He began rocking Rei back and forth in time with the music, while watching Shinji bounce on the floor.

This, he decided, was much better than working on budget reports.


	9. Little Giants

**November 3, 2021 - Ikari Residence, Sengokuhara, Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan**

As far as third birthdays go, it could have been worse. Shinji wasn't playing with any of his new gifts, which Yui decided meant he wouldn't get greedy. He was more interested in marching around with Pen-Pen and describing him to anyone who cared to listen. The stuffed toy had, unfortunately, drawn the attention of Asuka. The little red-haired girl had begun a tugging match for it, and Shinji had responded by pulling her hair and slapping her twice. Asuka responded to _that_ by pushing Shinji down with both hands and kicking him. The two continued their struggle over the penguin.

Rei decided the best response to the whole ordeal was to bawl hysterically and scream for her mother. The sight of her best friend and her devoted brother whaling on each other was more than her poor innocent mind could take.

It could have been worse, though. Yui kept telling herself this. She was thinking now as she grabbed Kyoko by the arm and hissed, "Get them some ice cream _now_!" She then hurried over to grab Asuka in one arm and Shinji in the other, physically separating the two brawlers. Pen-Pen lay on the floor unclaimed.

Rei was still bawling.

Naoko handled that little ordeal. "Oh, I remember this," she sighed, picking up the girl and letting her sob onto her shoulder. "Did I tell you how Ritsuko's party was? Her dad fed her too much cake. Threw up on her new dress. I hung that over his head until the day he died." At this point, Shinji still had some fight in him, whining and trying to get at both Asuka _and_ Pen-Pen at the same time. Asuka, for her part, had taken to hanging limp like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck, glowering at Shinji.

It was a good thing, Yui thought, that there weren't _more_ kids here. She thought that it would be bad for her boy if he didn't have a lot of little kids to socialize with, but considering the handful _two_ toddlers were providing, a small get-together among friends was just fine. She looked, and saw Martin coming out of the house.

"Oh, good. Reclaim your daughter," she said, hoisting Asuka. These kids were starting to get heavy. The gaunt, red-haired and haggard man hurried over and claimed her.

"Come here, Mäuschen," he crooned, taking the girl and cradling her in an arm. She gave Shinji a look that could only be described as haughty. Kyoko came out with three bowls of vanilla ice cream, handing one to her husband and pecking him on the cheek before handing another to Yui. It was always so strange to see the dour looking and serious Martin alongside the vivacious and beautiful Kyoko, but they were a pair. Yui thought of herself and Gendo, and knew she couldn't sit in judgment.

Gendo himself was going to be late. He was overseeing the final construction on the massive Evangelion Deployment Center, another sign of the growing importance of Sengokuhara in the long term, all while having to meet with some Japanese government employee.

Having their fill of ice cream, the kids seemed settle down. Rei was sharing her dolls with Asuka, and the two were playing and chattering about things that three year old girls found important while Shinji watched them with wide eyes, his mouth buried into the top of Pen-Pen's head. There was a big tuft of red fuzz there, and it gave him the appearance of wearing a kabuki mask.

"Once the facility is completed, we can begin growing the first of the three initial Units," Yui said, stirring her ice cream. "There's just the issue of control."

"You're concerned about them…developing feelings? What exactly?" Naoko asked.

"Something like that," Kyoko explained. "They're essentially animals, living organisms. If you _really_ want to get technical, their humans." Martin listened to the conversation with half of an ear, watching the kids through droopy eyes.

"This is some deep water you ladies are treading in," Martin murmured. "Creating something so alien that's technically a human."

"It's true," Kyoko said defensively, flipping some of silky locks off of her face. "Once they're grown, the only entity that will be more closely related to homo sapiens will be Yui's daughters. Would you say that _they're_ non-human?"

"A 140 foot tall being that can be called a human." He shook his head, then gave them a very serious look. "And you want to enslave it?"

"That's the sticky situation," Yui admitted. "We need a weapon that can generate a large area AT Field, while able to provide the necessary mass and field affect ratio necessary for full-scale combat. That can only be done with an organic weapon. Trying to create one in a way that can be called moral is…" Yui shrugged. "We've had problems justifying it to ourselves, believe me."

"It needs to be done," Kyoko said. "It's that, or humanity becomes a footnote."

"What about an electronic or cybernetic element?" Naoko asked. Yui frowned in thought. "Well, how did you intend to mount the pilots on these things?"

"We were thinking a strange organic interface, some sort of parasite chamber or…womb, for lack of a better word," Kyoko said.

"Why do all that? Think about the advances the world has seen in cybernetic prostheses. A lot of that is largely due to discoveries made through your research into Lilith's tissues. And we're using those tissues to build these things, right? You want to avoid creating something that's too…alive, simply layer it with cybernetic devices. Mechanical piloting chamber, enhanced musculature. Hell, you could even hold off on developing a brain and have the whole thing be run through MAGI."

"Approaching it from a mechanical angle solves the problem of energy," Kyoko offered. She glanced at Naoko. "We've had a problem in understanding the S2 engine."

"We can't figure out how to grow one, basically," Yui said. "It's in the code, we have one from Lilith, but we keep fizzling out whenever we try to actually form one. We've tried manufacturing artificial ones, growing them in culture tanks. We've done CAT scans on Rei and her sibs. They don't have S2 engines, so there's little reason to think that our Evas will as well."

"Will they not live without one?" Naoko asked, concerned.

"Of course," Yui said, "It's just that, for something that large, you need a _lot_ of energy. Just lifting its arm would burn more calories than the Boston marathon. Without something to…power it, basically, it'll just be in torpor. Hibernation, more or less."

"Let's meet on Monday and look at the issue,"Naoko suggested. "I guarantee that the solution for that problem is mechanically based."

"Can you make the adjustments necessary for holding something of that nature?" Martin asked, "The facilities are already built with one kind of creature in mind."

That was an astute question, and one that would require some thought. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it," Yui said, firmly. As she did, Naoko's phone pinged, a text message. She glanced at it, and giggled.

"Happy birthday from the college girls. Look at this," Naoko said, showing a picture on her phone to Yui. It was Misato, in her Cadet dress uniform, standing at rigid attention, a mortified look on her face. Ritsuko stood next to her, equally rigid and equally mortified, wearing a cute blouse with a high collar, but with Misato's garrison cap perched on her now-blond hair sideways.

"Silly girls," Yui said, smiling. Misato had made her decision to attend Tokyo University _solely_ on the fact that her best friend was there, which Yui decided was a good thing. Ritsuko was such a _mom_ now, she had organized the meetings with Misato's advisers, contacted the Recruiting Officer for the school's Cadet Battalion, and begun searching for apartments for the both of them on the mere _mention_ of Misato's interest. That was in the first three days.

"Do you get anything from Misato?" Naoko asked,

"She's so busy with school, ROTC, extracurricular sports…did you know she's doing kickboxing now?"

"Like…cardio kickboxing?" Kyoko asked.

"No. _Cage fighting_ kickboxing. I thought the wrestling stuff she was doing was bad. She's going to ruin her looks," Yui sighed, . "_And_ she's got a boy toy, now."

"I beg you're pardon?" Naoko scoffed.

"Do you know anything about a Ryoji Kaji?"

"Yeah, Ritsuko's mentioned him a couple of times. One of her friends in the computer engineering department. Real bright boy. He's double-majoring in that and international relations. Can you imagine doing those two majors together?"

"Well, I have to read between the lines, but Misato has emailed _a lot_ about him. I think she's got eyes for him," Yui warned.

"And Ritsuko is probably playing matchmaker," Martin said quietly, a half-smile on his face.

"I can assure you she is," Naoko murmured. Shinji started whining again, as Asuka had decided to make another attempt at Pen-Pen. He was using every word in his vocabulary to express his extreme displeasure at this development, in his slurred three-year old voice. Asuka was a little less vocal, but no less insistent on her right to the issue. Rei was less upset, but doing her best to be the peacemaker. Diplomacy, of course, is often hit-or-miss among the eloquent as it stood, and Rei was only a toddler.

"'Scuse me," Martin said with a wink, hustling over to disarm the situation. Yui smiled, watching the man hoist his daughter in the air. There were more important things to think about at the moment than Evangelion.

* * *

Gendo sipped from a glass of water as the Public Security man continued to regard him with serious eyes. What little he knew about Daisuke Aramaki indicated a man who was used to being in command of every situation he found himself in. A former military officer, he was now a mid-level leader in the Public Security Bureau. Despite his relatively low rank, he was a trouble-shooter, a problem solver. Hence, he had been sent to Nerv to assess how an independent paramilitary organization fit into Japan's overall security apparatus.

"As I'm sure you can understand," the smaller man said, "The military is uncomfortable with the growing presence and power of the Nerv Group, especially in regards to the capabilities displayed by your Tactical Division."

"Getting straight to the point, you fear a coup?" Gendo asked. It amused him to think that he was here, now, talking policy with a government official in such frank terms. His time in the pit with Nerv infighting, Gehirn dealings, and government contracting had prepared him well for such little chats.

Aramaki was also an old pro at this. He narrowed his eyes, and said, "I never implied that that was the case. There are circles that are uncomfortable with the amount of leeway and tactical ability that you have at your behest, especially in regards to the fact you are an international organization that does not answer to the Japanese government."

"But we do," Gendo argued, "As well as the American government, Canadian government, British government, German government…I can continue. Besides, as far as being an international body, the Others have not shown themselves to be choosy in who they attack."

"You're getting testy," Aramaki said. "I don't blame you for that. But understand how it appears from our side." Gendo traced a figure on the table, regarding Aramki.

"I'm curious," he asked, changing the subject, "Since the military seems the most uncomfortable with this issue, why the involvement of Public Security?"

"This is something within the borders of Japan, an internal issue," Aramaki said, shrugging. "More appropriate for our department than anyone else." Gendo nodded; he could appreciate that.

"I can only assure you, Mr. Aramaki, that Nerv is not concerned with the internal politics of Japan beyond affecting our ability to deal with the issue of the Others. If anything, we would be _more_ happy with the idea of Japan being involved."

"You refer to the directorship being based in Germany?" Aramaki asked. Gendo mentally smiled. Aramaki was trying to pump for information, and doing it in a fairly easy manner. He could only imagine at the secrets Aramaki had pulled with that method. It was a good thing that Gendo was intentionally opening the deck in his hand. Any means to get the Japanese government closer to them.

"There's a lot of talk, recently, of the Teutonic Revival," Gendo said. "The Germans have just now issued their first military operations abroad, though I think it interesting that none of those missions are to areas affected by the Others. Peacekeeping in the Balkans, 'hostage rescue' in the Ukraine, police assistance to the Nordic countries. Fairly close to home, if you think about it."

"Clearly settling accounts close to home," Aramaki said, "And using the situation to their advantage. Between them and the more aggressive stance of Russia, you could say its the old days all over again: Europe pulled between Bismarck and the Tsar." He folded his hands on the table. "Where does Gehirn fit into all of this?"

The Public Security man was well informed. "The primary council for directing Nerv operations. Each country's program has nominal control over its affairs, but we all answer to someone. It's split between leadership from all the signatory countries, but the chairman and the vital interests are all German. Where does that leave us? It's like they say: to get to Brussels…"

"…Go by way of Berlin. That's why you've been developing your friendship with David Sarif in the United States," Aramaki muttered. "But you knew I knew that." He fixed Gendo with a curious look. "And I have the feeling that you're doing your best to lead me to some sort of conclusion. What is this? A power struggle in the ranks? Are you fitting yourself up for that chairman's position in Gehirn?"

"It's simpler than that," Gendo said, "I have one concern, and one concern only: ensuring that my children inherit a world where they are free from the threat of extinction. I can't be assured of that with the interferences of certain individuals within Gehirn. Our working relationship has been productive so far, but only because I've had the assistance of the Americans, and by default the British on the Council. The Japanese delegation has been reluctant to go against their own Director, and so those three have counterbalanced the French and the German delegates. Every one else has been divvied up among those blocs. I won't lie, though…we've been lucky to have this run of fortune, primarily because of who we know and who is willing to work with us.

"I don't want anything more to do with Gehirn anymore than I want anything to do with Japan and it's internal policies. I just want to be able to do my job."

"As it has been defined," Aramaki said. "I can appreciate that sort of sentiment. I will be watching you, Director Ikari, and so will Public Security. I have no reason to believe you're lying, but understand that a man in my position doesn't get to where he is by trusting people."

"Of course not, Mr. Aramaki," Geno said. He sympathized with that policy more than he cared to admit.

"Be prepared to speak with me more in the future," Aramaki said, "And I would offer an old hand's warning: you have had good luck so far in keeping your rivals in check, it seems. Be aware that they are certainly playing games of their own."

* * *

Rubin Coulain suffered from a painful skin condition that afflicted his legs, one that could only be soothed by immersion in warm water. As such, he had taken to the habit of constant baths, even going so far as sleeping in a special tub he had built here in his apartment in Frankfurt. He was too much of an old man to be comfortable with getting prosthetic legs, however, and preferred this admittedly more involved method of pain relief. It was something that could make a man vulnerable, but in spite of being on the Gehirn Council, Rubin thought little of how he possibly be vulnerable. At the most, he was a bureaucrat, and he still thought of himself as a scientist. The fact that he had been the sole voice in the French delegation to stand against the German initiatives time and again had done just as little in convincing him to develop more secure habits. It was why he was so surprised when a man in a suit kicked in his bathroom door and leveled a silenced pistol in his face.

Rubin reacted on pure instinct, holding his hand up between his face and the man. Flesh cannot stop bullets, though, and the pistol barked twice. The intruder shot through Rubin's hand, and his arm fell limp. The assassin put one more round into the dead man, to ensure there was no possibility of surviving. The assassin would have to work quickly, now: a silencer could muffle the sound of a gunshot, but it was no gentle cough. It was still a loud boom, and possibly audible through the walls.

The man produced a spray can from his coat pocket, and painted the letters B A D, for the Bloc d'Action Directe, the premiere French anti-EU group these days. They were the ideal scapegoats to pin this little murder on: they were professional, well-connected, and it was perfectly reasonable to assume they would be operating in Germany.

In two hours, the man was meeting with Chairman Lorenz Kihl at the scientist's penthouse. It was one of the most secure locations in the city of Frankfurt, and any conversation of devious and unethical nature could be safely had here away from prying eyes.

"I take it Mr. Coulain has been dispatched?" Kihl asked. The man shrugged.

"In a way that won't lead back to you, or your overall objectives," the assassin said. Kihl nodded, satisfied. Now they could begin maneuvering another ally into that spot: with the one holdout in the French delegation liquidated, Gehirn control in Europe would be that much more powerful. The issue now was what to do with the Ikari bloc, as Kihl had dubbed it in his mind.

Whether those scientists had realized it or not, they had entered into a dangerous game with a dangerous man. The cards had been arranged _just so_ that most of the advantage lay in their field, and they had used those advantages. Their mistake was in not using them to the hilt. If they were wise, they would have pushed so hard that Kihl would have been unable to stand against them at all. As it was, they were only scientists, which limited the way they could perceive human interactions. For instance, assassinating a holdout was well and beyond how Gendo Ikari and his precious wife would have perceived of solving a problem.

"I have another mission for you," Kihl said. "This one I imagine will require the use of other resources, most specifically your team. Are you familiar with the Zarathustra Group?"

"Think tank of some sort. I'm vague on the specifics," the man said.

"They've been developing theories on the Others, metaphysical theories that are moving in a direction I am not comfortable with. It's not that I doubt their truths, but I am concerned about these ideas becoming disseminated. They are at a point now that, should they get wider readership, it still will not damage our overall objective. That being the case, the longer they are allowed to theorize, the more dangerous they could be."

He slid an envelope to the man. "Their having a conference at a resort in Bavaria in two months, which, to our good fortune, will include Ingrid Bouffier as a keynote speaker."

"The representative to the Bundesrat for Hesse who's been giving you trouble. Pat and neat. You don't miss a trick," the man said. "When you say team, then, you mean the whole thing. All twenty shooters."

"I want this to be a massacre," Kihl said evenly. "The resort is isolated, and will be largely filled with Zarathustra members for the conference."

"Collateral?" Referring, of course, to any wayward guests who might just happen to be at the resort.

"There is no collateral, only targets," Kihl replied. No witnesses, nothing living left behind.

"Who should we blame this on?"

"The Zarathustra Group ran afoul of Halid Ibn-Kush about three years ago, and he issued a fatwa. No one took it seriously, of course. Might as well make up a group for the occasion," Kihl mumbled thoughtfully, "Shift the blame to the Muslims." It was not that Kihl had any particular grievance against the Muslim population of Germany, but they were much smaller these days, and just so easy to blame. It never failed: whenever Kihl needed people to look the other way, he went to the tried and true sleight-of-hand tricks, and the crowd roared. "You're payment for Rubin is in your account. I'll issue you operational funds and down-payments for your salary and your teams within two weeks."

"Fedayeen of Ibn-Kush or something along those lines. Yeah…that'll work," the assassin said. "I'll see you in three months." Considering the gravity of what he had been tasked with, there would need to be at least a month of silence to let things die down a bit before reporting back.

Kihl listened to the man leave, pondering the city of Frankfurt in front of him. This ancient city was now a modern metropolis, the hub of Europe even before Germany's new rise to prominence. A rise that was solely Kihl's responsibility, bar none. There was no overweening pride in that statement: the facts, though hidden from the public eye, spoke for themselves.

It was not out of any patriotism that Kihl did this. If he was French, France would be the predominant power. If he was Spanish, the same. Hell, he would have put the world at Monaco's feet if that was all he had to work with. It was simply the tools he had. The future was being shaped here, and he was the one shaping it. Opportunity had arisen following Arrival Day, and he had seized it with both hands while stomping on those below him. Little by little, yard by yard, he was getting closer. Closer and closer, to his goals. No matter how many corpses he left among the foundations, he would stand on that pedestal, be it made of marble or made of bodies, to grasp his prize.

That was for the future, though. In the meantime, he still had the present. He sat in his penthouse, staring at the city, pondering whatever inscrutable thoughts a creature such as himself pondered.


	10. Fury Road

**November 21, 2021 - Australian Containment Zone #3, Route Gentle**

There had been something galling in the early days when the Kiwis came to assist the 'Roos, as they had taken to calling the Australian military. Still, as much irritation as there was in the untouched 'little sibling' of Australia providing military assistance with its massive Others infestation, there was also an undertone of extreme gratitude.

1Lt. Remy Saint-Clair, a New Zealander lost in the Outback, wiped sweat from the back of his neck, squinting at his monitor. He was being treated with a view of the vast Australian desert, as distilled through an electronic periscope perched on top of his gunner's enclosed turret. It was just a normal patrol through the poorly named Route Gentle, part of a large, circular route that connected the well-established rear detachments beyond the Containment Line to three small but highly entrenched and heavily armed SAS outposts inside the Zone. This was a 'fast-mover' style patrol, the opposite of a 'patrol in force.' Saint-Clair's platoon was an armored scout platoon, mostly composed of light vehicles, so he had the opportunity to do one or the other. There was benefits to both, but the primary one here was a rotating rest and coverage element. It was his runner's turn on the clock, and they were pushing through the Route now at a speed that was difficult to maintain when working in a convoy of four vehicles.

Still, he wished he could have that coverage. With four vehicles, you could cover all the cardinal directions, but it required a slower pace to keep your formation. Patrolling in force also resulted in bogged down firefights with anything in the Zone, and that wasn't the purpose of this patrol. They weren't trying to engage with anything; merely note the presence, movement, and consistency of any groups here in the Zone. It was easier to do that with one highly mobile unit than four linked ones. Risky, but, that was the Zone. Risk and risk.

As far the twenty-three different containment zones went, #3 was probably the easiest to work. Easy was all relative, of course. Easy meant that soldiers in the zone counted casualties by the single digits per month, as opposed to the double digits. Still, before the influx of sentry drones, automated bots, and the every popular spastic round, those digits could sometimes be very high double-digits. Even triple digits. It was a stupid thing to have so many people dying in what was strategically useless territory, but those numbers were dearly paid. So much of Australia was considered enemy territory now, that that 'strategically useless' territory had gained real-estate value, if just in trying to prevent the Others from moving to more valuable property, like the densely populated coastal regions.

"Anything in the dunes?" Saint-Clair asked, looking at SGT Jeremiah Duffy. Despite his last name, Duffy was old-stock Maori, and seemed too large for the small cabin of the 'Tuckered Tazzy.' Between them was LCPL Zooey Goose's legs, as she stood in her armored turret, waiting for anything that presented a tempting target. Duffy was running various wave patterns on the Akagi scope, which was linked into a map of the area surrounding the Stoat reconnaissance vehicle. It was linked into ALLEYES, the natural outgrowth of the old US BLUFORCE Tracker, it gave him a massed view of this area of operations, showing the icon of the Tuckered Tazzy roaring along the Route. Saint-Clair had a similar readout on his own monitor that tied into the larger command net in the area.

"Nothing yet, sir," Duffy said. "All in all, a quiet patrol."

"Odd," Saint-Clair murmured. There always at least one peg on the patrol, somewhere down the line. Saint-Clair turned around, watching LCPL Gil Zachary in the driver's seat. The fellow was tapping his thumbs on the wheel, listening to music only he seemed to hear. Odd fellow, but good driver.

"Goose, you see anything?" Saint-Clair asked.

"Sand. And shrubs. And more sand," she said, testily. Saint-Clair smiled. Normally, a recon vehicle fell under the command of a sergeant or lance corporal. Command structures and unit profiles had undergone some adjustments in the last twenty years, and part of that meant that he, as a platoon leader, was afforded the right to a vehicle himself, which made him the 'Tuckered Tazzy's' vehicle CO. Being a unit of more experience than the average armored recon unit, they had an abundance of lance corporal's and experienced NCOs.

Which meant that he got lip from his crew, and by God he was going to take it. A Soldier with experience had the right to be a bit salty, especially to her crew boss.

"I got signature up ahead," Duffy murmured. Saint-Clair turned around, his eyes glued on the periscope imagery. "There, sir," Duffy confirmed, "10 o'clock and in the dust." Saint-Clair turned the periscope in the prescribed direction, and saw it. The telltale shimmer of an AT Field.

"Goose, do you have eyes on?" he asked, adjusting his microphone.

"I see the icing, but not the cake, sir," she complained, "It has to be big, to generate that much of a flux." As if to answer her challenge, a great burst sand exploded on his screen, cascading across the road. Zachary slowed the vehicle, waiting to see what came out and which way it moved.

What appeared in the sand looked like a giant, inverted V, or poorly scribbled M. It was two massive and trunk-like legs, a diamond-shaped body suspended between them. The gray and black thing planted a foot on the road, bellowing a challenge.

"Three second burst, center mass, if you please," Saint-Clair said. The dual-fifty chattered, the spastic rounds creating white and green flares as they struck the golden shimmer of the field. The thing gave a groan that was felt more than heard, shuddering as its Field fluctuated. At the end of the burst, four rounds penetrated, pocking its gray hide.

"Five second burst, once more, Goose," he said. She followed up, chewing holes into the thing before it could reestablish its field. It screamed, and collapsed, trying to fight back as it died on the road.

"That got 'em, Looey," Duffy laughed. There was a beeping from his monitor, and he grimaced, tapping his screen. "I see three more signatures popping up. Two on the left side of the road, one on the right. I think we pissed them off."

"Keep an eye on them, Sergeant," Saint-Clair ordered. "Zachary, give us a little velocity, if you please. Goose, if any of them show their faces, send them to Hell with a kiss."

"Way ahead of you, sir," she called, her legs twisting as her gun turret rotated. The Tuckered Tazzy lurched as Zachary cranked up the gas, circling into the sand to avoid the carcass of their recent victory. Despite being heavily armored and heavily armed scouts, the Stoat class of vehicle could _move_ with proper motivation. They were up to 130 kmh when they passed the three new contacts, more of the V critters. To Saint-Clair's irritation, the unwieldy looking things apparently had some buck in their step too, and were starting to pace the Tazzy.

"Contacts behind us, but their collecting on the road," Duffy reported. "And they're starting to pick up speed."

"I see the bastards," Goose called. She held her fire, despite her blood lust. In spite of the blessing she had received earlier, she was a good turret gunner, which meant she was an extension of the vehicle commander. She would hold fire until expressly told she was weapons-free, or given a fire command. Saint-Clair rotated the periscope, watching the shimmer on his screen as it focused on the three contacts. In front of the lead beastie, a ball of light was forming.

"Right, Zachary!" Saint-Clair screamed, and the driver juked the cockroach-shaped vehicle obediently to the right. The world went black as something brighter than the sun cut a swathe through the tarmac where they had been a moment before. "Goose, weapons free. Nut 'em," he chanted, punching Zachary in the back of the shoulder. That was _damned_ good driving.

The dual fifties began chattering, not in sustained bursts but little staccato blasts. Chukka-chukka, pause, chukka-chukka, pause. Goose exercised the fire discipline of a saint, making her rounds count as she picked and prodded her targets.

"One is down, the others are trying to split," Duffy said.

"The hell they will," Goose snapped, redirecting her fire off to the side and herding one into the other with the skill of a shepherd dog. Chukka-chukka, chukka-chukka.

"One more down, the other's giving up the hunt," Duffy snapped. "Damned good shooting, Goosey!" He blinked, adjusting some dials at his station. "We're getting hailed by the checkpoint twenty-miles up," Duffy called. "They said to blow on through, they know we're—"

Duffy's voice was cut off as something exploded against the Tuckered Tazzy, and Saint-Clair's head bounced off the bulkhead. His helmet had protected him from the worst of the blow, but his vision went foggy for a moment. When it cleared, he saw there was actually a _hole_ in the back of the patrol vehicle. Duffy was slapping the side of his head, fighting with his monitor. "Tracking the shot. Right side, Smarties on the embankment." The Smarties, the tool users, the ones who could use weapons. Way to ruin a perfectly good patrol.

The Tazzy was still moving, Zachary proving his mettle as a driver by keeping them on the road despite the brutal punishment his vehicle had just received. Duffy looked okay, despite being next to the blast.

Goose was screaming obscenities and peppering the embankment with fire, not sustained bursts this time but streams of bullets. She didn't need a fire command this time; getting shot was all the heads-up she needed. Something was plinking against the outside of the vehicle, and a stray round entered the hole and popped against the interior bulkhead.

"How the hell did we all _survive_ that?" Saint-Clair muttered, watching as the miles dropped away between them and the heavily armed checkpoint.

"I'm not asking, sir," Duffy said, leaning back in his chair and swiveling it towards Saint-Clair. The NCO had a trickle of blood on his cheek, and a small burn on his neck, but was none the worse for wear. Saint-Clair marveled at the man's luck.

"You're seeing a medic the minute this buggy stops," Saint-Clair ordered.

"Only if you do to, sir. You're looking gray in the cheeks," the sergeant said. "Took a knock in the head?"

Saint-Clair nodded. "I don't think a concussion, but I'm not the expert." The machine guns had stopped, and Goose dropped down from her turret. One of her small fingers was twisted in an unnatural direction.

"Broke my pinky when the bastards opened up on us," she growled. "Duffy, pop it back in."

"Leave it," Saint-Clair snapped, "Let a medic do it. Don't want your finger useless."

"I feel fine," Zachary called cheerfully from up front. He had taken no injury at all, and felt that was the perfect reason to rub it in his squad buddies' faces.

"You get to fill out our damage report and conduct our PCMI," Saint-Clair chided. The Post-Combat Maintenance Inspection, especially in light of this little jaunt, would be a headache and then some. If Zachary was feeling so chipper, _he_ could do it.

"Happy to, boss," Zachary said cheerfully. Through the front viewport, Saint-Clair could see the combat checkpoint. To call it a checkpoint was like calling a missile cruiser a boat. It was more of a large redoubt, a man-made tunnel in the waste that was part of a large, virtual fence of bunkers, machine gun nests, and minefields.

Per Duffy's interrupted relay, the Tuckered Tazzy blew through the cleared road under the checkpoint at full speed, the Aussie soldiers already off to the side and waiting. Saint-Clair caught a glimpse of two 'Roo soldiers in digital desert camo, their fists in the air as a salute to the battered Kiwi scout as she roared through.

"Polite, our neighbors," Duffy said, sliding out of his seat and sticking his arm through the hole and waving.

"Do that, and you'll lose an arm, Sergeant," Goose teased, sliding onto her traveling stool while holding her injured hand. Saint-Clair turned around and banished the periscope view, bringing up ALLEYEs to fill out an Engagement Report. Two ambushes for a hole in his buggy, possible concussion, one broken finger, and injuries to be determined. And a smart-ass driver.

All in all, a good day in the Zone.


	11. Burn

**December 25, 2023 - Nerv-Japan Evangelion Center, Sengokuhara, Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan**

Yui considered herself well read in weapons systems these days, by virtue of her husband. She was still shocked to realize she had no idea what an N2 bomb was. That was not the biggest shock, of course. It was merely the thought that she found manageable at the moment.

When processing the deaths of over 500,000 people, it helped to start small and work your way up. Especially when those deaths were an accident, and the intended objective had been in the millions and included your country's government as well. Which just so happened to be the city your daughter was attending school at. Or…if you were truly feeling important…the thought that the ultimate goal had been _you._

There was still so much that was unclear about what had happened, save that one minute the city of Aomori had existed, and the next it was gone. Yui was watching the news numbly in the staff room, trying to process it and not doing well. She had seen horror at Antarctica, but that was safely in the past. And Japan had been so stable, all things considered. This was…new. New and frightening.

She slipped out of the crowded room, and hurried down the hall. She needed to find Gendo. She needed him to _explain_ this thing to her. She found him in his office, Kozo there with him. The older doctor had become something of a familiar sight in the halls of the Center, not really an official member of Nerv, but someone of too much experience and too important to not include. His work with the girls had been extremely appreciated, and while they were still confined to their LCL tanks, four of them (Gina, Sango, Suzu, and Tsukiko) were able to leave the tank for small periods of time thanks to a drug regimen he had devised. He proved a good match for Gendo as well, someone who the younger man could bounce ideas off of. They were both leaning over Gendo's computer, staring at the report.

Yui stood in the doorway, looking lost and unable to say anything. Gendo stood up, crossed to his wife, and hugged her. "They're saying…that possible targets were Tokyo…or here," she whispered. "I don't understand this. This wasn't the Others…this was _people_. People were doing this."

"We don't know what the target was," Kozo said from within the office, trying to soothe Yui. "We only know it wasn't meant for Aomori."

"How do we know that?" Yui asked.

"The Russians," Gendo said. "It was one of their N2 devices. The FSB is working with PSB on this." She looked at him in confusion, and he guided her into the office. "The Russians were the first to develop N2 devices a year ago. It just means Non-Nuclear: basically, its a high-yield energy reaction without nuclear or radiological affects. It could be a high energy battery or…a very large explosion. It depends on the purpose of the device. The Russians tried to keep it a secret, but the Americans produced a more efficient one six months after that, and four months ago, Japan, Britain, Germany…all the big powers had their own. A lot of countries with nuclear weapons abandoned their stockpiles to gain those devices."

"And this was a Russian one?" Yui asked, trying to keep up. Her mind felt so _sluggish_ right now.

"The Russian devices have tracking systems and are linked to a central records database," Kozo explained. "Anytime the on-board computer for a device is activated or accessed, the data from that is sent to a hub somewhere. A military base in the Urals, probably. This bomb was stolen from a research facility in Shilka, and not meant to be used as weapon."

"The tracking device had been removed after that," Gendo continued. "In Aomori, someone tried to run a diagnostic on the bomb to see if it was viable. They didn't know what they were doing: they armed it, but didn't know how to disarm it. Tracking the keystrokes, the Russians deduced that they panicked, tried to override the sequence, locked themselves out…and there you have it."

"A city gone because of a mistake," Kozo said, "And the crying shame of it is that if they _had_ succeeded in simply running a diagnostic, the Russians could have told us, and we would be arresting these people and returning a bomb to a sheepish country."

Yui sat down on the couch across from Gendo's desk. "How…do you know this? Are they already reporting this on the news?"

"I have a contact in the PSB," Gendo said, "I just phone-conferenced with him, and Kozo was sitting in. This contact told me that they have a group under observation, and a list of possible targets. This…area was one such target."

"Who were they?" Yui whispered.

"Probably Indonesian refugees, angry that their country is a containment zone and Japan is doing so well," Gendo said, "But that's under the hat. If that should get out, we could see violence against the Indonesian community. Maybe even all refugees."

"I thought they were doing fine here, that there was…I hadn't heard anything about…" Yui was so lost. Politics was not her strong point. It was too messy, too illogical. Even the chaos of biology had a reason and order to it that just didn't exist in the world of politics, at least not to Yui.

"Things have been a little harder than the news paints it," Gendo admitted. "It's easy to report how awful things are around the world. It's harder to admit that it's happening inside your own borders."

"And there's other culprits, to be fair," Kozo added. "The Expeditionary Forces have been involved in clashes with guerrillas in the Philippines, and we've just deployed a force to assist the Pan-Arabic Union."

"The timing is too neat," Gendo replied, "With Arrival Day a week off…I think it has to do with the Others. I'm not the only one who's going to make that connection."

"It's irrelevant if the news doesn't mention it," Yui mumbled, "There'll be violence against the refugees regardless." That was the implication she had drawn from Gendo's statement, and he didn't correct her. Yui closed her eyes, imagining a fireball, a vast fireball, eating away at buildings and trees, and flesh and bone. The image of Misato and Ritsuko melting into small particulates pummeled her mind. Then Gendo, and, Naoko, Kyoko and Martin and their little girl…

Shinji. Rei. Her sisters. Gone in less time than it took to blink.

She stood up left the office numbly, shrugging off Gendo's hand. He stood in the doorway, watching awkwardly and uncertain of what to do. He turned and looked at Kozo, and the man shook his head. "You know her, Gendo. She needs to be with her thoughts for the moment. Just let her be."

* * *

Yui wandered down to the Paddocks, where They were. She didn't consciously do so, but the thought of so many people dying so rapidly, so suddenly in the north, had taken a kind of physical hold on her. Something demanding she come down and be reminded of the part she may or may not have played in that.

No one else was in the chamber at the moment, and she switched on the lights herself, flipping the massive switches with ominous clicks. It was an amazingly large space, larger than any other interior structure Yui had ever seen. A catwalk extended across the length, over an ocean of sickly orange liquid that stank of blood. So much blood.

And her youngest children were waiting for her in it.

Crossing the catwalk with light footsteps, Yui stared at the three nearly completed Evangelions. In a remarkably short gestation period, each giant had grown from a mass the size of a football into…this. These great, giant…_things_. They had contained them in armor plating, welded machines into their flesh…neural enablers, neural inhibitors, artificial organs, circuitry, computer readouts, the Plug receptacles in their very spinal columns…

She stared at the things she had created, or helped to create. They were far more destructive than any number of N2 bombs. These things were capable of generating AT Fields, massive ones of a power that had, heretofore, been immeasurable in comparison to the simple things they had seen so far. They looked as lethal as they truly were, great demons given form.

Yui Ikari had made a thing of true death. She tried to wrap her mind around that, and found it was too much to manage. "Merry Christmas," she murmured, very alone in the great space.

* * *

Taimei Kubota sat in the office of Aramaki, still an old Army hand while Aramaki was making a name for himself in the civilian security services. Both of them had just finished sitting through a general briefing by the Prime Minister himself, and were taking a moment to recuperate before getting back into the trenches. At the moment, neither man had said anything, simply lost in their own thoughts and the quiet of the cool office. It was not how either had hoped to spend the holidays, but that was the way it was when you were on the government coin.

"Is it possible that the Russians intended for this device to make it across?" Aramaki asked, doodling on his notepad. It was the one thing both of them were thinking, and neither had wanted to say.

Kubota closed his eyes. "I don't like the implications of that, but the thought had crossed my mind. We've become an assertive power in the area, and that makes a lot of people nervous, especially those countries that can't forget the Co-Prosperity Sphere. As for the Russians…well, they've been butting heads with the Germans a lot these days. We've been pretty under the radar and trying to stay that way, but they won't ignore us forever."

"Especially with the Nerv Pact," Aramaki noted. "The desire to hobble one or the other must be overpowering."

"It could be possible that they know we're planning some sort of decisive weapon against the Others. At least, that's what I hear out of Sengokuhara," Kubota said. "It would not be inaccurate to say that Russia is making out like a pig in this situation. They've had no outbreaks, they're isolated from the southern hemisphere. It might actually be in their advantage for the presence of the Others to continue."

"I would say that's a bit of a stretch," Aramaki admitted, "But not too much of one. It's never a bad idea to have the worst image of someone in mind, just in case."

"Regardless, whoever is the ultimate mind behind this has certainly shaken things up. The Takeda Plan." There was derision in the tone.

"The Three Tokyos," Aramaki mused. "Tokyo-1 where it has always been, Tokyo-2 in Matsumoto City, and Tokyo-3 at Hakone, near Nerv-Japan's Headquarters. Three capitals, just in case."

"And the location of the Diet, the Prime Minister, and any of the essential infrastructures locations a constant and changing secret. How are we supposed to run a country this way?" Kubota bemoaned.

"That's not our concern, I fear," Aramaki said. "What men like you and me will be busy with is stopping the next group who decide to vent their frustrations with bombs and bullets. Imagine if they had made it to their final destination, wherever that would have been. And what's worse, they will have learned from this."

Kubota linked his fingers, pressing the tips of his thumbs together. "Do you really think there'll be a second attempt?"

Aramaki smiled gently at his friend. "Don't be naive," he said.

* * *

It did happen, but not in Japan. It was well beyond the purview of anybodies ability to do anything about it, really. Three days after a small sun burned at the center of Aomori, the event repeated itself in Islamabad in Pakistan. No one claimed responsibility for the blast, except that it was known to be an N2 device, and India had twenty N2 devices in its possession, having developed them as a replacement to its aging nuclear stockpile.

Pakistan had twelve, and used all of them simultaneously, a decision made by a reactionary and furious military council. The bombs were placed with ideal precision, locations intended to maximize the overall casualties inflicted, if not in the short-term, then the long-term. Famine. Disease. Loss of infrastructure.

India responded in kind, unleashing the full fury of its N2 arsenal. If there could be said to be a winner, it was India. It was a larger country, with a bigger population and a more significant stockpile of large-scale weapons, ideal factors in a war of mutually assured destruction. Pakistan had effectively ceased to exist as a viable entity, and India got to enjoy the fruits of it's 'victory,' by more or less still being upright, if not necessarily standing.

By the time the 31st and thus Arrival Day came, the sub-continent had been declared the worst large-scale disaster zone in the history of humanity, exceeded only in severity and scope by those regions occupied by the Others. William Taggart, a philanthropist and noted opponent to trans-humanism in the United States, noted that it seemed a telling thing that, with an alien presence on their doorstep, the most destructive acts perpetrated against humans since that first awful year had been committed by other humans. It was an assuredly profound statement, and received a lot of air-time, but what was left of India and Pakistan were unable to appreciate the words.


	12. This is an Animal

**January 22, 2024 - The White House, Washington, D.C., USA**

There were psychos, and then there were psychos. Then there was Strannix.

William 'Bill' Strannix was not a psycho in the mild way, of course. That was like calling a stained-glass masterpiece a bay window. Strannix was a whole other level of cruel and capricious individual, specifically because he could separate how cruel and capricious he truly was from normal life. He was a professional, first and foremost, an ideal candidate for causing mayhem and misery. His last name seemed to personify his chaotic nature, molding so perfectly into a flowing lilt that ended in that hissing consonant that it sounded like hate itself.

The United States Navy had lost him to the Central Intelligence Agency, and they in turn had lost him to another, more shadowy organization that specialized in doing horrible things to horrible people. Some times it was known as the Special Activities Group. Other times, the Badger Army.

Huey Ridier just knew them as those Blood Drinking Bastards. And this India-Pakistan fiasco had Strannix written all over it in soppy, gory letters. It had his stink about it. "When all is said and done, no knows or is willing to admit _knowing_ who owned the N2 device detonated in Islamabad," he said, sitting across from Thomas Breaker, otherwise known as Blood Drinking Bastard Number 1. Compared to the other individuals in his particular group, he was actually fairly level-headed, if exuding a bit of a used-car salesman vibe. Ridier often wondered how much of that was Breaker himself, and how much of it was simply to get people to not take him seriously. Today, though, he was quiet. Pensive. Very much unlike his usual sleazy self.

"What I can tell you is that this looks exactly like the kind of thing your bright boy would do. And since he's gone conveniently _missing_…" Ridier let the silence linger.

Breaker said nothing for a moment, flexing his right hand. It was artificial, to replace the one he had lost in a car accident. It had been giving him trouble recently, he pondered. Stinging, like a small shock every now and then. He would have to visit a LIMB clinic to get it checked out. Focusing on those little details was good. It helped him avoid answering questions he didn't want to answer.

"Bubba, the National Security Advisor is talking to you," Ridier said quietly. "Thoughtful silences aren't the best thing to give him when he's asking you about your shop."

"We have no confirmation it was Strannix," Breaker said, "But we have indicators to show that he was planning something, and went off the range to do it. It is highly likely, that this…" Breaker couldn't find a word to describe what 'this' was. 'Holocaust' seemed appropriate, if melodramatic. There were other, more colorful phrases, but both men were trying to keep this civil, and if one started swearing, it would be downhill from there.

"Highly likely that this…" Ridier repeated, rubbing his eyes. "So…when I go to brief the President, I am going to have to mention to her that two countries of overriding importance to us as strategic partners and forward bases for operation against the Others decided to have a little spat that _just_ happened to wipe out millions of their citizens _south_ of the Chinese, _east_ of the frigging Iranians, because…_someone_…who was probably Strannix…and let's be honest, we _know_ it was…decided to detonate a high-yield bomb inside Islamabad." He sat back in his chair. "Does that, I think, sum up the situation nicely?"

"No," Breaker said, "It would be worth mentioning that we have every right to believe he was doing it at the behest of someone else."

"The behest…of someone else." Ridier laughed, a humorless sound. "Do you know how unhelpful that is? That it is just the sort of thing that will _not_ calm the President down? Is this how you try to sugarcoat things?"

"I'm not trying to sugarcoat anything," Breaker said. "You want to talk to the President, and you want to lay this at my feet, then fine. That's the nature of the business. We do deniable actions, and are prepared to be denied. I can tell you that Strannix was in communication with someone, and that needs to be known. Discounting it is ignorance at best and suicide at worst."

Ridier pondered it. "Fine. Assume he was in communication with someone. What would the purpose be of having two countries annihilate each other? I can think of a lot of reasons myself, mind you, but seeing as to how freaked-the-hell-out everybody is about this, I can't possibly figure which one is the most likely."

"Two reasons, really," Breaker said, "The first, that he was hired to initiate a war between India and Pakistan, plain and simple. It's the most obvious and most easy answer: just pick a side to hit first and hit them. Those two have been twitchy for years, and worse with the refugee migrations up from Indonesia."

"And the other?"

"That…this was a demonstration. A promise to a potential employer that he can deliver when asked."

Ridier nodded. "You know what…I hope, to God on His pearly Throne, that you are wrong about that latter sentence. I truly do. Because if that is whatever his new best friend considers a demonstration, then I don't _want_ to know what he considers a quantifiable action."

"Oh, don't worry," Breaker said, flexing his artificial hand again. "I bet we'll find out what soon enough."

* * *

The man known as William 'Bill' Strannix was sitting in a safe house his private, shadowy group maintained in Roanapur, Thailand. Among the lower-classes, it was considered the Switzerland of the South China Seas, but with more guns…everybody respected everybody else's privacy here. That was essential to how the whole stack of cards stood. If one little cowboy got too noisy, or stepped out place, then a whole lot of people who had no reason to like each other work work together magically found common ground on which to cooperate. Then there would be one less noisy cowboy.

There were other advantages to this town, of course. Being an American in Thailand was not out of place, but it was even less so in Roanapur, where it was widely agreed that only 40 percent of the population was actually Thai. It was a good place to catch up on business.

Strannix had been sitting in his room, watching his video two-way, and waiting while old rock music blared from a creaky radio on the bedside table. He had smoked three cigarettes by the time the two-way's light flashed, and he sat up, waiting for his mysterious benefactor. In the space above the device, a black cube appeared, with the Roman numeral I. On the other end, he knew a coin with a stylized kingfisher would be floating in the air for whoever it was that wished to speak to him.

"I saw you on the news," a voice said, heavily distorted, backtracked, rewound, and played forward again. It was clear, but in an underwater sort of way, impossible to identify with the human ear or even an electronic aid. "You started a war."

"Just a little one," Strannix confessed. He had a sarcastic streak in him, the kind that had prevented his rise in the Navy but seen his success in more obtuse agencies. And to be perfectly honest, starting a war between Pakistan and India was about as simple as throwing a cripple into traffic. It was the perfect catastrophe, and all it needed was a nudge to get the whole thing going.

"I have to say I was impressed. I would hope you appreciate how rare that feeling is for an individual such as myself. It takes a lot to get my attention. You have been noticed."

"Yeah, well…I would say Uncle Sam is probably thinking the same thing," he pondered. "I sure as hell think the Indians are wondering what went their way."

"It will be irrelevant," Number I said, "Suffice to say I believe you are capable of performing the tasks I send your way."

"My bank account will be the best sign of your good faith," Strannix replied.

"Already done. Check with your accountant at your earliest convenience."

"I will when he's sober," Strannix said. "What more do you need from me? Sounds like you have something else in mind."

"A little something. Please look at the image." The I vanished, and the box projected on its six faces the picture of a toddler, a young girl with blue hair, red eyes, and very white skin. Underneath her picture was the number '01.' The picture changed, the same girl with a slightly different expression, marked '02.' This pattern continued all the way up to '10,' before the black field with the white I reappeared.

"So…what's the deal with the girl?" Strannix asked.

"The _girls_," the Voice corrected, "are items of extreme importance, to those who know what to do with them. There are men, _powerful_ men, who would pay dearly for the secrets locked within their cells."

Strannix pondered that. Clones…intriguing. Human cloning was still strictly forbidden in a lot of places, but loopholes could be found if one knew where to look. "You want an extraction mission, of…what? One of these little models appeal to you over the rest, or do you want the whole party package?"

"A sample of blood would be enough," the Voice confessed, "If unable to get a full specimen. I would consider myself the most fortunate of souls to inherit a whole, living, breathing unit. We'll put it to a scale: try for all ten of them, but failing that, get me one. Failing that, get me a sample. You will be compensated appropriately regarding what you provide me and the condition of the item when it is received."

"Can do. Where is she?"

"Details will follow. Stay tuned, Mr. Strannix. We intend to make you a wealthy man." The mercenary smiled, flicking his cigarette out of the window.

"It's just nice to be appreciated," he said, watching the box flicker and vanish.

* * *

Kyoko was lying on the couch, hugging her daughter close and trying to block out the world with the smell of strawberries. Asuka's hair was heavy with the scent, a shampoo her father had bought for her. "She's a strawberry, after all," Martin had said.

He was sitting on a chair, rubbing the tip of his right index finger with his other palm. The finger was short by a digit, the result of an accident when building Asuka a playhouse in the backyard. Kyoko had scolded him for that, saying there were simpler gifts to get their daughter that didn't involve losing body parts. "Look at the rag doll I made for her," Kyoko had said. "She likes that fine. More than fine. I didn't even get a scratch making that." She still had the ragdoll, one of a small mountain of stuffed animals her father spoiled her with.

"She still wants that penguin of Shinji's," Martin had countered, which was true. Every time she saw the boy and Pen-Pen, the fight began again. It was no longer physical, and Asuka was becoming a nag whenever she saw the boy. She didn't know why Asuka insisted on keeping up that feud, but Kyoko strongly suspected a crush.

Right now, though, Asuka was cuddling her rag doll as hard as Kyoko was cuddling her. On the television, a memorial was being held for Aomori, while the commentators spoke about the uncanny timing and parallel of the Indo-Pakistan War. The weight of death pressed on Kyoko, and it was hard to shake.

A pallor had fallen over the whole of the group running the Evangelion Center. Gendo had become more quiet, Naoko had started smoking, and Yui was spending a lot of time either in the tank with her nine other clones, or just staring at the Evas in the Paddock. It was coming close to the day where they would have to try and activate the damned things, and everybody had images of doom in their minds.

"Mommy," Asuka said quietly.

"Yes, Mouse?" Kyoko asked.

"Read me a story," the girl requested. She was already reading well on her own, at a much higher age group that other six year olds. This was a deeper demand. Asuka couldn't understand a lot of what was being talked about, but it pressed on her child's mind like a vice. All she knew was she was scared, and she didn't know why.

"Okay, dear," Kyoko agreed, standing up as Asuka hopped to the floor. The screen had just switched to Lorenz Kihl, who was releasing a joint-statement from Gehirn and Nerv pleading for mankind to take a lesson from the destruction the N2 weapons had wrought, and refocus their efforts on the Others. Kyoko wasn't prepared to listen to stump speeches, and followed her daughter into the little girl's room.

"Which story do you want?" Kyoko asked. Asuka pulled a book from her shelf, one with a worn binding from many reading sessions. The title said 'This is an Animal.' It was simple book, all about animals and the things they did. 'This is a cow,' one page would say, 'The cow goes moo, moo, moo.' The next page would show a frog. 'This is a frog. The frog goes hop, hop, hop.' It was Asuka's favorite book when she began reading, and she still liked it when her mother read the words to her. It was a natural bonding kind of activity, something that had become so repetitive that it had become as expected and welcome as breathing.

Asuka asked Kyoko to read the book five times in a row, and Kyoko gladly did so. She kept reading until Asuka fell asleep clutching her rag doll, then closed the book and put it back on the shelf. She tip-toed out of the room, and joined her husband in the kitchen. "Some of those talking heads," he said, "Have made the argument that all N2 devices should be placed under Nerv control."

"Nerv? With those bombs? Good God, why?" she asked, horrified.

"For one thing, no one trusts the UN," he said. "For another, it's been argued that if those weapons are going to be used against anything, it's the Others, and Nerv is the one to direct it."

"We haven't _used_ the stupid things against the Others, and there's a damned good reason for that," she hissed. There were a _lot_ of damned good reasons, in fact. One of them had just happened south of the Himalayas. There was also the consideration of environmental health: that had initially been scoffed at, until it had finally been beat into the opposing side's heads that a collective series of massive, city-destroying sized explosions across the _entirety_ of the Southern Hemisphere was just a plain bad idea. Besides, the governments and governments-in-exile of those countries did not want to come home to smoking craters. Further complicating the issue was that, while massive swathes of land were essentially denied to human life, the occupied areas were not contiguous, and embattled and entrenched human populations did in fact weave between those spots. An N2 explosion was not selective, and blowing up a nest of Others did not mean human lives wouldn't be lost as well.

And finally, the only true successful nuclear strike ever launched against the Others was over Antarctica. The second one was middling. The last two were absolute failures. There was no guarantee that the N2 bombs would be any more successful. There was the simple risk that an N2 strike would just make the Others angrier and more aggressive.

The fact was, the only real weapon they possessed which had worked for certain were spastic rounds, and hopefully, in time, the Evangelions would join them. That was it, plain and simple.

"That's also one of the reasons," he muttered, unhappy with the idea as well, "The thought that we can keep them under lock-and-key."

"So we get to guard those things, while trying to discover and plan and implement the tools and strategies needed to reclaim our planet. Great. Genius. I I _love_ this plan." She clearly did not, and was beginning to scratch her arm in agitation. It was a nervous habit that rarely manifested itself, but when it did, she could claw right down through the skin. Martin laid his hands across her fingers. She wasn't looking at him, but focused on something far away. "Aomori…that could been us," she said. "That could have been you, and me, and…Asuka…and…"

"But it wasn't," Martin said. "And it won't be."

"Can you really promise that?" Kyoko asked.

"Yes," Martin said, dead serious. When he said a thing, he meant it, and Kyoko had loved him dearly for that. She accepted it, and felt her temper and fear cool, and still. She could accept it. Martin had said it would be okay, so it would be okay. It was a simple as that. She could live with it, and be happy. She had to. If she didn't, it meant accepting the alternative, and that was simply too much for today.


	13. God For Paris

**June 1, 2024 - Intersection of Rue de Rennes, Rue Bonaparte, and Boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris, France**

The issue of Palestinian statehood and Israeli dominance of the region had been at a peak fever when Arrival Day occurred. The flood of refugees up the Sinai Peninsula encountered the fruits of those fears in the form of Israeli pickets, determined to maintain the integrity of the state against any and all possible threats, even in the face of Armageddon. To this day, there were still bad feelings all around, and the Pakistan-Indian incident had only heightened the fear.

Funny how that can't stop poetry, Imi Benet thought wryly.

"Wish it could have been someplace other than Paris," he murmured, and his companion scoffed. She was a woman of Congolese descent built like a willow and dark as rich chocolate, and had been Imi's guide for the last month. Considering their long on-line acquaintance of three years, that three months had included…other things. Very pleasant things, things that made Imi wonder what he could possibly do to convince her that Tel Aviv was worth a trip.

"Why on earth would you be complaining about Paris? What more could you possibly want in a city?" Gigi Delamont was the daughter of a Congolese dancer and a French literature professor. Following her father's inclinations, she had devoted her life to the printed word, here in her native city. She had lived in Paris all her life, and was an eager missionary in her good name.

"Everybody is rude, unpleasant…" Imi began, which was to an extent true. He loved France, but he loathed Paris. Gigi had insisted they take a day trip to , and he found the place gorgeous, the people welcoming. It reminded him of his kibbutz days, not for the details but for the feeling. Paris was a culture shock: the streets were pleasant, the buildings wonderful, but Imi expected a certain courtesy from people, worse now that he was just retired from his Army service. Parisians had a certain opinion of themselves that was not shared by other Frenchmen, and especially not by the rest of the world

"Is _everybody_ in Paris so rude?" Gigi hissed seductively, leaning _very_ deep into Imi's personal space, her wide and generous grin splitting her face like cream in a bonbon. He blushed.

"There are exceptions that prove the rule," he murmured, and she kissed him on his nose. Imi mentally sighed; he had to admit that Parisians were not _that_ bad. He was grouch, and it was probably affecting his opinion of the city more than he intended.

"So serious, little soldier," she chided, leaning back to enjoy the sunlight. They were seated outside at the famous Les Deux Magots cafe, waiting for Gigi's friend and Imi's idol. It was a fitting location for a meeting with a literary icon. The man in question was a God in the world of poetry, having written three books in the form of epic verse, weaving narrative and lyrical description with poise and wit. It was part of the purpose for Imi's visit to France, as well as Gigi attempting to sell him the virtues of the academic and literary community that twisted throughout the fabric of French life. The country had always been the destination for refugees, especially from the former territories France had dominated in the past, and with them came the foundation of a budding artistic movement. It was an attempt, Gigi theorized, to make sense of the chaos of the Others, the brave new world they were in and how to find a place in it.

And here they were, about to meet one of the great poets of the day. He had a busy schedule of lecturing and speaking, but had agreed to meet Gigi on account of being a dear friend of her father's, and something of a godfather to the girl. She had told him that she had an up-and-coming writer from Israel just _drooling_ at the chance to meet him, and it would be no small favor to her and her designs on the poor boy. Gigi had CC'd Imi on that email, just to remind him how deep in her pockets he had fallen. Imi could care less.

"Stop twitching," she said, and Imi returned to the present.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"You are _so nervous_!" she laughed. "Hanan is a sweetheart. He spoils me rotten. He likes me, so he'll like you. Oh, here he is!" She raised a lithe arm and waved happily, and Hanan joined them.

Hanan Said was a Palestinian of Gaza heritage, and still known in that community as an organizer of charities and programs geared towards education. Hamas didn't like him because he worked outside of their carefully structured apparatus. The Israelis didn't like him because anyone moving money into Gaza _had_ to have ulterior motives.

Imi didn't care either way, he just liked good poetry.

"It's so good to finally meet you, Mr. Benet," the short, bespectacled man said. He was barely into middle age, but he looked much older, the fruits of a life spent in dark libraries, or hunched over a computer screen. He had a smile that was genuine, and a demeanor that was far friendlier than Imi had been expecting. He carried a tablet in his free hand. "Gigi has sung of your verse to high heaven, and I've enjoyed reading it myself."

"I should be singing your praises, sir," Imi stammered, shaking hands nervously, "I had a copy of _Whispers in the Palace_ in my ruck during the whole of my service."

"Hanan, please. I am glad you enjoyed _Whispers_. That ones always seems to be a popular one with young men, I find," Hanan noted, gesturing for the two younger folk to sit as his slid into a chair. "I remember deliberately crafting very broad archetypes that not only appear in Phoenician culture, but throughout the world. Young men like the Hero, the struggle, even the romantic elements."

"I would lie if I didn't say I used some of the verse in that book to pick up a date or two," Imi said, and Hanan laughed. Imi continued, "What I found more interesting was your use of mystery and philosophy. Looking back, I recognized elements of Sufism, Twelver Shiite philosophy, even pieces of the Kabbala. And the amazing thing about it all was that it seemed to…reaffirm and enhance my own beliefs as a Jew. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense, another ulterior goal, if you would believe it," Hanan said. "I am, myself, a Sunni Muslim, and a love my faith. I have long had an interest in the beliefs of others, however, sparked by a look into the tenets of John Calvin. Now, I find a lot of Calvin to be priggish and contemptible, but his views on the community, or the spiritual purity…the perfection of God…how could a good Muslim not find fascination with that?"

"Calvin! You never told me that!" Gigi laughed. "How on Earth did you start reading John Calvin in the Strip?"

"How else? The Internet?" Hanan laughed. "Information was one of the things both sides tried to halt the flow of, but my father…" Hanan waggled his finger happily. "My father was a very smart man. He wanted his children to see the world even if they couldn't leave Gaza."

"So…Calvin led you to…?"

"Back to Muhammad, Peace Be Upon Him," Hanan chuckled. "I went through many more highways like that. I would dawdle over to some thinker or philosopher from another faith, or another creed, then run back to what I knew. In that process, I began to…merge them, you could say. I saw things I recognized elsewhere, things that were withing my own understanding of the world. I wanted to craft into my poetry, then, the affirmation of one's place in life. I felt, if a Christian's words could make me a better Muslim, perhaps my words could make a Buddhist and better Buddhist, a Hindu a better Hindu. The idea that I could build men's faith in the world and themselves with my own.

"But that's _my _poetry," Hanan said, waving it off. "I wish to speak of yours. I have an epic verse of yours given to me by Gigi, and it is filled with such pain and such contemplation. You've seen violence in your life, haven't you?"

"From service in the Lebanon, actually," Imi said. "I was a part of the Armored Brigade in the Fifth Incursion. It was…well. It was an awful thing to see, as you can imagine."

"I can. I have some friends from Lebanon who spoke about it," Hanan said sympathetically. "There is a curse in that land, I fear. I had seen violence in Gaza during my youth, but it never reached what has been described to me in Beirut, or on the border."

"I never actually fought engagements, or killed anyone when I was in the service," Imi said, "But I always saw the aftermath. Bodies, blood…it was like walking through a dream world that wasn't real. I couldn't process it very well as I saw it, and I began writing poetry. It helped a bit…then it helped a lot."

"You wrote _Cedar Beginnings_ during that time," Hanan said, smiling. "I could see the hurt in your words, the hurt you felt for others and how it affected you. I was surprised to learn you were a soldier. It was very tender, the things you said. But then again, I tend to think of soldiers as big and macho."

"Hardly the IDF!" Imi laughed, "We have plenty of tough guys, believe me, but when the entire country has to serve, you get the entire country. Some of the fellows in my unit, you could knock over by blowing too hard in their direction."

"Well…I'm sorry you had to experience that," Hanan said, "But I am glad such poignant words were the result. A good memorial. However, I do have suggestions for you." There was a twinkle in his eye, and Gigi sighed. She loved to be the center of attention, but she was well and truly a third wheel in this conversation of the moment. Fair enough, she thought. If it won her Imi, it was a well played hand.

Imi, for his part, sat forward eagerly. "Edits?"

"Plenty," Hanan said, "To take as you will. What I see does not mean the verse is bad, and there are those who will think it good just the way it is."

"Please," Imi said, "Anything you offer can only improve it."

"Well," the man said, tapping his tablet screen and pulling up a red scarred copy of Imi's poem. "Look at the wording of the first bloc, your introduction. You have made a moving appeal to the reader, and your word choice is fine, but you have sold yourself to proper grammar."

Imi blinked, and Hanan waggled a finger. "I will explain. As a writer, especially a poet, the rules of grammar are laws that you must memorize and abide by, not only to follow them, but to learn how to bend and shatter them for your purposes. If you were to take your copy of _Whispers_, and go through it with your grammatical understanding as of now…"

"Now that you mention it, I remember a lot of violations of grammar," he murmured, "I thought that was a flaw of the translation."

"No. To me, the goal of poetry is not merely the placement of words, but the emotion and the movement. How do the words drive you to act? To feel? Sometimes, it is better to produce a sound or a sense rather than a grammatically accurate statement."

Imi glanced over the twelve line introduction, noting the edits. "So you're saying that the placement makes the introduction clunky?"

"A bit," Hanan said, "You are still able to appeal to the mood of the reader, but it's an appeal with hesitation." Imi's mind began working, and he pulled out his notepad. He began scribbling on it, looking at the first three stanzas. "What have you got there?" Hanan asked, suddenly curious. Gigi leaned over, trying to see.

"How would this work instead? Is this more of the idea you have?" Imi asked, turning the notepad around. Hanan raised his glasses, and studied the writing.

"Yes…yes, you have the idea," Hanan said, smiling. "Look at the placement you have made here, how the sounds of the words connect each other. You have still created lines with meaning, which while not grammatically correct, are a beautiful piece of work. Something that could be read or sung, and be pleasing to the ear as well…as…what is this?"

Hanan sat up, alarmed. Imi followed his gaze, to see people standing in the middle of the street, staring north at something down the way. Others were sprinting in the opposite direction. Apprehension was the mood of the moment. Something was happening at the distant intersection, opposite the one that the Les Deux Magots sat on. It looked like a mirage in the air. Imi felt Gigi's fingers slip into his own, and he gripped her hand tightly.

There was a snip-snap, a sudden silence, and the overriding stench of ozone. Then, a burst of light issued, blinding Imi for a moment. There was screaming, . Imi's vision returned, and his saw it. A thin but very bright shaft of light in the center of the intersection, forming a cross above the buildings.

A flux had opened in the center of Paris.

"No," Gigi murmured, "No. No, no, no, no, no…" She was becoming hysterical, one hand on her head, repeating the word as if it was the continued stroke of a wire brush, that perhaps enough repetitions could wipe away what she saw. Her fingers gripped even tighter in Imi's hand, bringing a stab of pain to his wrist. Imi gently pulled her to her feet, and turned to Hanan. The older man had stood, but was leaning on the table for support, breathing slowly and levelly.

"Sir…_Hanan_!" Imi whispered, and the men flinched and turned. "We have to go. This moment." Hanan nodded.

"Of…of course, young man. I'm sorry…I…just…lost myself for a moment," he said, stepping forward. Imi turned and led them down the street. Everyone still seemed wooden still, uncertain of what to do and unable to move. In a moment, though…they would. All of them. All of Paris would move, and it would be chaotic. Violent. Imi was no longer the eager poet learning from a master. He had returned to his soldier's self, and his only mission was to get Gigi and Hanan out of the heart of this place before it became the reality of his memories.

* * *

Col. Cyprian Bertrande was a Haitian, who had joined the Foreign Legion and transferred to the regular French Army for a commission and a life of respect, of hard work and reward. He loved France. He loved living in France, and protecting it. France had given him a new life out of the slums of Port-au-Prince, away from the gang lords and the poverty of life on the island. It had given him his wife, his children. France was God's gift to him, and every day he thanked God for it.

And now the heart of France had a cancer in it, and Cyprian was doing all he could to keep from weeping. It seemed suddenly so unfair. He listened to the Nerv scientist explaining the Akagi scope readings, his chest aching. "It's a small tear, right now, but the particulate emissions indicate that it's still expanding. We can't accurately predict how big it will be," the Nerv man said, apologetically.

"The heart of the city," Cyprian's XO, Maj. Zeb Mignaux hissed. Currently, they had troops lining up on the north side of the Seine, turning Voie Georges Pompidou into an ad hoc fortress. Engineers were wiring the bridges even as people streamed across them, readying to blow them the moment something appeared. The south side had proved to be a more tense situation, filled with dense buildings and a patchwork of streets. Fortunately, Parisian streets were designed to allow the easy movement of troops during its more hectic days. On the flip side of that, they had also been designed to lessen the effectiveness of barricades, and that was working against the defensive arrangements being set in place right now.

And Zeb's statement was correct. The flux had happened near cultural treasures of vast importance, not only to the French, but possibly to humanity itself. His own command post had been set into the Notre Dame Cathedral, which was in sight of the flux right now.

"It could have been a lot worse," the Nerv man said evenly. "It opened small, so the only casualties it has produced are within the intersection of Rue Jacob and Rue Bonaparte. The size it is now…if it opened at _this_ size, we'd have been looking at triple digit casualties. I know it doesn't seem this way to you, but we were _very_ lucky."

It didn't seem that way, Cyprian agreed. The Nerv man was an expatriate, an American working with the Parisian team, so the weight of this was less of an issue to him than it was to the members of the French Army present. He was right, though. It could have been much, _much_ worse. And as they layered their lines of troops and armament, there was the possibility of halting the impending flood of Others, possibly until the flux closed. _If_ it closed.

"Excuse me, Colonel." Cyprian turned to the captain that had interrupted him. "A Colonel of the Gendarmerie is here to see you, sir. Col. Ramon Dumond."

"Thank you, Captain. Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, following the younger officer to meet with the officer in question. He knew the name of Ramon Dumond. The man was in charge of the National Gendarmerie Intervention Group. He had not requested their assistance, nor been informed of their arrival, but he had anticipated it, and was glad for it. He met with the fellow outside the entrance of the Cathedral. To his surprise, the commander was in fatigues and combat webbing, a rifle slung on his chest. It was not the place for an officer at his level to be in the field, but it seemed that was just where he was going.

"Col. Bertrande," the other officer said, shaking his hand. He had a mean looking, scarred adjutant next to him, who nodded politely.

"Col. Dumond, a pleasure. What can I do for the GIGN?" Cyprian asked.

"We - the entire section - have been assigned the task of entering the containment site and escorting civilians out of the zone of seclusion," the tall man said evenly. "We know that there are people who are unable or unwilling to move, and we are prepared to enter from four points, coordinates to be handed over to your command, and motivate the evacuation process."

That was news to Cyprian, and not merely because no one above had informed him. Most containment policies the world over was less concerned with evacuating civilians and more concerned with setting up picket lines for the swarm that would issue forth. It was a cruel policy, but a necessary one. To trap people in-between military weaponry and biological horror was seen as preferable to focusing on rescue efforts and allowing the Others to gain a deeper foothold.

"The President issued the order," Ramon explained, seeing Cyprian's hesitation. "He was…part of the Marseille containment. He signed off on the command with 'Never Again.'"

"That could be a good motto," Cyprian said, chuckling. "Never again…"

Cyprian weighed his thoughts. At the moment, his troops were setting up checkpoints and fortifications for the eventual push of whatever would come out of that flux. Further, any decisions he made now could be overturned: he was doing this only until a General took charge and began directing the growing task force. Still…

"You're going in with the unit?" he asked.

"Every man must do his part," Dumond said. "I was an operator before heading the GIGN. I was also at Marseille, my first assignment in the Gendarmerie." He smiled, a look that did not seem mirthful in the least. "We didn't have spastic rounds then. Never again, Colonel."

Cyprian nodded. "We have standing orders to shoot anything non-human and let anyone through without checking in or issuing a challenge," Cyprian said, "If GIGN wishes to go in, I say go. We can't actively assist, I'm afraid, but we'll cover your entry and exit. I would further advise you to guide civilians south. We blow the bridges if the Others appear."

"We'll spread the word. Thank you, Colonel," Ramon said. He turned to his adjutant, who began issuing commands into his headset. Cyprian watched as the fellow left, and his XO tapped him on the soldier. "Cyprian," he said quietly, dropping any honorifics. The two had known each other for a long time, and had taken turns being the others superior during the course of their careers. They were colleagues who had moved beyond rank when discussing issues in private.

"What's the word, Zeb?"

"Orders from direct from EMAT. They've said the evacuation of the President and his family is complete, and they've observed our arrangement of the defensive line. They've sent their thanks and praise of our rapid movement, and wished to inform you that you are still in command of the Northern sector. Southern command has been granted to Col. Bloch, and command of the overall operation has been tasked to Div-Gen. Soult. I've tasked Maj. Saxe with forwarding our troop arrangement and organization to the General's staff right now."

"Thanks, Zeb," Cyprian said, rubbing an old scar on his neck. "I'll be inside in a moment. Just keep doing what you're doing." Zeb nodded, leaving his friend on the steps of Notre Dame. The Colonel looked to the west, seeing the crimson cross rising over the city, contemplating details, contemplating the fickle way the world worked. It would be irrelevant soon enough, he thought.

There was a fight to be had, and he would need all of his wits about them. Grimacing, he turned his back on the flux and walked into the Cathedral, to look to his defenses.

* * *

In the evacuation, Imi ran into the expected mass panic he knew would form, and it had been as bad as he expected. They were now in a field hospital, south of Highway E5, all together, thank _God_, but Hanan was bad. He had a concussion, three broken ribs, a fractured arm…he had been knocked down and trampled before Imi and a passing good Samaritan had been able to pull him to his feet. The man, a broker named Chartrand, had assisted them to this point, even accompanying them on the military transport. Trucks were rushing in and out of the city like a bus service, layered in with civilian vehicles who had volunteered to assist.

Chartrand had recently taken his leave to contact his family. Imi had exchanged information with the man, on the off chance he could thank him more properly in the future, and seen to Hanan. Gigi had a black eye, from someone's unwitting elbow, but other than that was no worse for wear physically. The shock of knowing her city, her beautiful jewel of a city, was now a battleground was harder to take.

Still, she was being a trooper. She was sitting by Hanan's bed now, talking quietly to him while holding an icepack to her eye. He was nodding, his eyes closed and murmuring. Imi drifted next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Is there anyplace you have to stay? Outside of Paris?"

"My father…had a cottage near La Rochelle. It was his family home. I was talking to Hanan, and he mentioned something about…friends in London. I think he'll be going to Britain, but I'll check with him when he's a bit less groggy." She smiled up at Imi, and said, "This was supposed to be a good day."

"Can't be helped," he said, kissing her forehead. She leaned into him, and said, "I guess you'll be leaving, now. Back to Israel?"

"I'd rather make sure you and Hanan get to where you plan to go," he said,

"Stay with me a little longer, then?" she asked, a pleading note in her voice. "I just…" She shrugged, and he nodded. The next few months were going to be hard for her.

"As long as you'll have me," he said.

"Get ready to change your address, then," she sighed, trying to sound cheerful. She was anything but that, unfortunately, and her voice had a sad bitterness to the tone.

She stiffened under his hand at the sound of gunfire. It was faint, and drifted over the camp, small pops at first, soon rising into a cascade of thunder, heard even here. The unearthly warble of a focused AT Field layered into it, and Imi shuddered. He had heard that sound once in his life, a briefing on the Others. It was only a recording, but a recording that made hardened man turn white and tremble. There was no sound like it on earth.

He wanted to repeat her statement to him, but didn't. It wouldn't have been as teasing as he would have wanted it to sound, and it would have been cruel under the circumstances. He simply stood quietly, listening to the distant battle taking place. Something stirred in his memory, something among cedar trees and sandy rocks, a memory of screaming children and crying women. He closed his eyes, and pushed that thought deep down into the dark place it had resided in. Imi wouldn't let those things he had seen, heard, _smelled_ come out. Never again, never again, never again.

Never again, he repeated to himself, feeling the warmth of Gigi under his fingers. Heedless of his decision, the gunfire continued.


	14. The Edge of a Great Height

**Note from Gob Hobblin**: I admit that it's been a long time since I worked with kids within the age group that the Three Children are occupying now, and it has occurred to me that the characterization is off. Mostly, it's because I have either worked with an older age group, or extremely young one (like my nephew). Essentially, six-year-olds are more mentally developed than what I've had in mind, while being both less and more mature - trying to be independent, but not knowing how to do it. Expect a re-submittal to 'This is an Animal' in the not too far future, and a different characterization of Asuka coming up.

**June 20, 2024 - Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3, Japan: The Day Before Contact Day**

The Battle for Paris had been the water-cooler discussion for the past month. A lot of it was still murky, being filtered and run again and again through the talking heads, but Gendo had developed a talent for reading between the lines.

There were questions concerning French military preparedness, in face of the southern containment line's collapse, and a lot of criticism leveled that had reached downright nasty jibes. No one had, of course, taken into account that the majority of French units were overseas assisting other countries with their containments, and he wondered how well any nation would behave if a flux opened in their own national capital. He had admired the actions of French President Marcel Piaf, and felt a sincere note of regret that the only thing he would get out of this mess was the retention of his Presidency. The French image had been hurt tremendously in the EU, and the need for assistance from the Germans had only bolstered that country's standing.

That wasn't the best news of the day, he thought dourly. It had given Kihl's 'N2 Policy' extra legs, and serious talks were being made to place the Nerv Pact's N2 weaponry into Nerv and Gehirn hands. And on top of that, he was still trying to make heads or tails of the three weapons he _did _have under thumb.

He studied the technical load-outs on his computer, flicking between the thre. Unit-00 was essentially a prototype, grown from a sample of Rei and Lilith, a sort of in-between step of something more Lilith than not. It was smaller than the other two units, the first to begin and complete growth. As vastly superior as it was supposed to be compared to other conventional weaponry, improvements on the design were being made before it had been completed. Unit-01 was the result of those designs, a sample of Yui and Lilith and called the 'Big Sister' by the project team. It was bigger, much more brutal in its appearance, and designed specifically for combat. Still, more improvements could be made, and Kyoko was the one to do that. The result of _that_ effort was Unit-o2, the final Eva they had the budget and capacity to create. This was the first Lilith-patterned creation that had not used Yui's DNA, instead being made from a sample of Kyoko's tissues. Unlike the others, it had a more radical direction its design, a true combat device. It was a four-eyed beast, sleeker and more compact than Unit-01 while still maintaining the same height and mass, and was the only one to maintain true on board weaponry. So impressive was its arsenal, retro-designs were being created to upgrade Unit-o1.

And yet…they were all useless at the moment. They had yet to be test piloted, and there were serious concerns as to what would happen when the actual tests occurred.

Which was why Yui was storming into his office now. He had expected it, but cringed at the thought. He hated fighting with his wife.

"What the _hell_?" she snapped.

"I'm not comfortable with this," he said, refusing to budge. "I refuse to let you be the test pilot for the initial run."

"That is not your choice to make," she snapped, "The Eva Project is mine, under my direction and—"

"It is exactly my choice," he said coolly, "The Project is yours, but the Group oversight is mine, and there is simply too much risk."

"Don't you _dare_ hold that over my head," she yelled. Two people passing in the hallway stopped and balked. Gendo stood up quickly and went to the door, closing it. "Those are my creations, my designs, the frigging Plug suit has already been made with my dimensions! If anybody should be at risk because of them, I'll take the risk!"

"They aren't your designs. They're Lilith's," he said quietly. Yui froze, and a sound of strangled frustration rose in her throat. She balled up both hands and pushed hard at Gendo's chest, too angry to speak. He rocked back slightly, and caught her elbows in his palms as her arms dropped. "Yui," he said quietly, "We don't know what will happen. There's things in the readouts I don't understand, talk about…sympathetic connections, bonding…Naoko said that the on-board operating systems on the Eva's will act as a mediator between the pilot and the Eva but…" He gripped her arms a bit tighter than he intended. "Yui, we don't know what will happen."

"We don't," she hissed, still livid but a bit more in control. "And I don't want anybody to take the heat for something I made. I couldn't live with myself if someone was hurt because of that."

"And Shinji? Rei? Should I list all the other girls?" She closed her eyes, and shook her head.

"That's not fair. Don't you dare bring them into—"

"You love them very much, and I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt them," he said, "but if something happens, you would be hurting them." She leaned into him, like a popped balloon. She sighed, and he waited for her to gather her thoughts. Both of them were stubborn people, and he knew she hadn't given up on her stance.

"There is no one in the world more qualified to handle what will happen in the Plug," she said, referring to the pod that had been designed to contain the pilot. "An expert needs to be there. I am the expert. This is the safest course of action."

"Yui, it's…" he began, but she gently laid a finger on his lips.

"Gendo," she said quietly, "The cells in Unit-o1 are mine. I…if anyone is going to interact with it, there's a greater chance of a sympathetic connection that is _harmless_ if I do it. The only other way for a more guaranteed connection would be Rei." Hearing that made Gendo queasy, and he closed his eyes.

"Yui," he murmured, and she nuzzled her head under his chin.

"Please, Gendo," she said quietly, "I know you're scared, and I am, too, but this is the best route we have. Please let me take it."

He sighed. "If anything…_anything_…happens…"

"It's my fault, then," she snapped, "Not yours. Not yours, okay?" Gendo nodded, but he couldn't make himself accept those words.

* * *

Yui sat in the locker room, fiddling with the Plug suit. It was a deep rosy red, with neural connections and plastic padding designed to enhance the connection between Pilot and Eva. Between those and the hair clips that would establish a link through her scalp, she should be able to essentially 'take over' the Eva. 'Should,' of course, had a lot of leeway for success and failure. She mulled over that when she heard a cough, and turned to see Kyoko standing nearby.

"So it's set?" Kyoko asked, quietly. Yui nodded. "And you? Are you set?"

"No," Yui confessed. "I put up a brave face for Gendo, but…" she shrugged. "I'm scared silly."

Kyoko nodded. "Well…all we can do is wait and be ready. Go home, and play with your kids. You'll feel better after that," Kyoko said. Yui said noting, and put the Plug suit away.

"I'm staying here," she said. Kyoko blinked, and Yui continued. "If I go see the kids, I'll lose my nerve. I'm saying here, and…I'll see them after." She forced a smile. "It'll get me through, you know?"

Kyoko didn't know what to say to that. She leaned against a locker, trying to understand what was going through her friend's mind right now, but that was a mystery even to Yui.


	15. Rats in the Walls

June 20, 2024 - Warehouse 3, Yoshii Storage Center, Tokyo-3, Japan

Japan was not Pakistan. And the security around Nerv's Evangelion Center was first-world, well-trained, and well-organized. These weren't rent-a-cops, that was for sure.

So that left Strannix with two options: a smash and grab, or a covert extraction. He would have preferred covert: sneaking in, snatching the girl, and leaving. The problem was, Tokyo-3 was the result of paranoia, and the security apparatus in place was one that made such an action difficult, if not impossible. That was thanks to whoever the idiot was who blew up Aomori. He hoped there was a special place in hell for that little bastard to burn, but not for his crime. He had made Strannix's life harder, and that was unforgivable.

A smash-and-grab raid could work, though. Strannix had set into place a plan he had worked on since arriving four months ago, and organized by Samuel Daulmer, his accountant/lieutenant/fellow provocateur. The Irishman had been involved in the seedy underworld of weapons smuggling before signing on with Strannix and his hi-jinks, and had a mind for conspiracy and a talent for getting things done.

The plan in place was a variation of the Gruber Gambit. It was built on an all out assault and raid on Nerv-Japan's Evangelion Center, utilizing combat cyborgs and smuggled sentry 'bots. All equipment in the raid would be obtained in-country, to baffle the investigation trail, and go in using the identity of the Golden Army, an anti-Nerv group in the United States. The small-arms were easy enough, and about five full-bodied combat 'borgs were waiting in the wings, good hard souls who had done work with Strannix before. Using them and a group of twenty commandos, they would hit and seize key portions of the Evangelion Center. Then, they would initiate a hostage situation.

Essentially, by making a big ruckus over a random issue, they would direct attention away from the actual purpose of the mission. Strannix had done something similar once before in Lesotho. The reason it would work is because the security for Nerv, as well layered as it was externally, dropped to nothing inside the Center itself. If they could get their shooters through the doors, they could hold the Center. That meant getting the girl, getting the siblings, and moving on.

Almost everything was in place: the cyborgs had been smuggled in through shipping containers, the shooters were scattered around the city just _waiting_. They had one more element to put into play, and then all that was left was waiting for the right time, specifically when the girl was visiting her 'mom.' And she would: this Yui Ikari was unable to cut the umbilical, and the kids were a constant guest at the Center. Strannix and Daulmer were on their way to get that last little piece, in a warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo-3, to meet with a US military contact of Strannix's that ran him goods under the table.

"What about the cyborgs?" Daulmer asked, concerned. "Can't just sneak them out. It'll be a trip trying to get the twenty shooters we _will_ have moving."

"Of course we can," Strannix said, waving off the question. "They're full bodied, so pop the brain cases, put them in life support modules, and move them with everyone else."

"Leave their bodies behind?"

"Yeah. Set 'em on autopilot, let them have some fun. We'll get them new hanzers when we're done," he said indifferently. Inside were a group of yakuza soldiers, in civilian clothing and sporting assault rifles. They had picked up and driven Strannix and Daulmer, brought them to the site, which had been empty until Strannix's group would take over later tonight,

"Hey," a grating voice called, a large fellow in a dark coat walking across the floor to meet them. "Strannix, you shifty eyed bastard, good to see ya. And Daulmet, along for the ride."

"Commander Krill, on deck," Strannix chuckled, shaking the wild-eyed, blond man's hand.

Commander Julian Krill was an old associate of Strannix's, a man as unscrupulous and self-centered as his friend. He had organized a gang of disillusioned Americans and expatriates within the Navy and around Yokosuka. It was easier, now that the situation with the Others, the organization of the Nerv Pact, and other factors had seen an expansion of the American military and an extension and upgrade of the military treaties that bound Japan and the United States together. Krill had used yakuza contacts to smuggle the bots across the Sagami Bay, to a safe dock and then deeper inland to Tokyo-3, specifically to this warehouse. It was under a shell group that had been quickly set up and used to purchase the property, and would be the primary site from which Strannix's group would organize and move.

"So this is what we got?" Strannix asked. On the main floor were five black, nondescript metal box.

"TriOptimum-military grade sentry 'bot," Krill said. "We have three hundred of these puppies right now, but I am handing off five of them to you. Five that do not exist on any books, in any inventory, and are free and clear, amigo." On top of the box was a rubberized slab with a screen and keyboard.

"Do you know what all these little buttons mean?" Strannix joked.

"Man, I am a _professional_!" Krill declared. He tapped a sequence, and the box unfolded, a four-legged tarantula with questing sensors and curiously life-like movements.

"Easy to program, friend-and-foe tracking with this," Krill held up a fob that could be clipped to a belt or vest. "Just set 'em up and park 'em, or program a way-point series in for them to patrol. Or, give them a location to guard, and they'll be your friendly little watchdog.

"Anything to tie them back to the US military?" he asked.

"Nope. Had them sanitized externally and internally before bringing them here. We do that, every now and then, have about twenty or thirty like that on standby. Things to drop into the middle of politically questionable situations to raise a ruckus, so to speak. Just give them a new paint-job and they could have come from anywhere."

Strannix nodded, gazing thoughtfully at the bot. TriOp sentries were common bots, easy to transport, upgrade, and program. Their box shape meant they could be stacked and moved like blocks, making them popular with civilian as well as military concerns.

"I like it. Came through again, bub. "

"Now, the issue of payment…"

"Daulmer will handle it," Strannix said. Krill went to talk to the terrorist accountant, incurious as to what would be done with his items and not caring. It was why he and Strannix had had such a warm relationship for such a long time. Strannix in the meanwhile perused the bots. This was it: everything was in place, and ready to play.

Now they just needed the right moment.


	16. Contact Day

**June 21, 2024 - Nerv-Japan Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3, Japan**

Waking up just as the paramedics were about to apply a defibrillator to her heart, Yui decided that she had been _very_ lucky. And she would always listen to Gendo. And she would never neglect a day with her children again. And that the Eva was a most ungrateful bitch.

"Hold it, hold it, she's blinking," one of them said, crossing her arms over Yui's exposed chest before the other could apply the shock paddles. The man leaned back, visibly relieved that she was conscious.

"Mmmuuhh…mmm…water…" Yui murmured, her gums feeling similar in consistency to dry cotton. She was very thirsty, and disoriented as well. She remembered the beginning of the experiment…then not much else. Something must have happened, because here she was, her red Plug suit cut open to give the medical team access for CPR, defibrillator paddles, and IV drips. She was trying to sit up, and not really succeeding. She trembled, and fell over, a paramedic catching and supporting her. A stretcher had been set next to her, and she was gently cradled and moved onto it.

"Mmmm…Unit…One…" she asked, the stench of LCL in her sinuses.

"Activated and ready, but it took a bite out of you," someone said. It sounded like Kyoko, but Yui couldn't see her. "We're preparing a CAT scan in the med bay, followed by a full physical. We don't want to prod you while you're still down, but that was more than we were prepared to deal with." Yui was trying to keep track of what was being said, and nodded as though she understood. In truth, she didn't. Everything was so backwards right now.

It had become important to her to know if her son was sharing Pen-Pen with Rei, and for the life of her she didn't know why.

She was sitting up in bed, her hand over her right eye and feeling a little better. She had endured a gamut of tests, and it was determined that, somehow…for reasons incomprehensible…she was fine. No brain lesions, no physical scarring or damage. She was healthy, happy, fine.

Still, she had some recuperating to do. For instance, it was too blue on the left field of her vision and too red on the right. The color spectrum was normalizing, but not quick enough for her. She decided she'd rather see blue than see red, and was covering her eye until everything decided to do what it was told. Gendo came in through the door, Shinji leading the way. There were some advantages to there being hospital grade medical suites in the Center, the primary one she could think of was her kids being able to get to her quickly after Mommy did a damn-fool thing.

Like entering Eva Unit-01 and almost dying.

"See, there she is," Gendo said, followed closely by Naoko with Rei. Shinji Pen-Pen. He was small for his age, and still carried the now-raggedy penguin everywhere he went. It was a bit of a concern, since he was getting too old for it. Mostly, it was because Asuka had never given up her desire for it, and it seemed more a point of pride than anything else. Shinji ran to the bed, clambering up on it. It felt _awful _as he did so, but Yui could care less.

"Come here, you monkey!" she cooed, one hand reaching out to him.

"Mom, Dad said you went into the robot!" He was exceedingly excited that his mother had done such an amazing thing, and continued chattering to no end about it. "Does it have missiles? Can it fly? Does it transform, or make cool noises?"

"I don't know. It was kind of angry with me, I think," Yui teased. Rei continued to stand next to Naoko, pensive.

"Rei, go see your mother," Naoko said, gently pushing the girl forward. Rei drifted over, and leaned against the bed.

"I was worried about you, Mommy," Rei said, quietly. She fluctuated between chatterbox days and shy days. She was a bit more aware of things than Shinji was, and had detected that something bad had happened. Yui nuzzled her daughter's hair, breathing in lavender. Her scent mingled with the puppy-smell of Shinji, and Yui felt her strength bouncing back. "Look at this. I'm already rejuvenated."

"I hoped they wouldn't be too much," Gendo said, leaning over and kissing his wife's cool forehead. "Glad to see it was the right idea."

"Oh." Gendo turned, and saw Kyoko had walked into the room woolgathering, carrying a laptop. She was surprised by the welcoming committee.

"I can come back later," Kyoko said.

"No, it's fine. Um, kids," she patted her brood on their respective backs, "I have to talk to Aunt Kyoko now, okay? I need you both to go be with Daddy for the moment, okay?"

Shinji, the dutiful son, plopped off the bed and bolted to his dad. Rei was more reluctant, dawdling the whole way, uncertain of what to do. Yui waved to her, and Kyoko gave the girl an affectionate tweak on the cheek with her fingers. Rei gave a grunt of approval, and took off after her sibling and father. Naoko remained behind, curious to see what Kyoko had dug up.

The woman pulled a chair up to the bed side, and placed the laptop on the hospital bed's side tray. "Okay…we had the computers crunching numbers from when you went into the Plug, from the insertion, the start of synchronization, the whole nine yards," Kyoko said. Vague details came back to Yui. Testing the Plug suit. Insertion into the Plug. Feeling the strange, almost syrupy consistency of the LCL, the resonance charge, and the always amazing feeling of the 'thickness' becoming transparent, opaque. Light as air.

After that, things were a little less clear. She tried to focus back on when the test began to go south, and just couldn't see the details.

Kyoko tapped on the laptop's keys. "Okay…here, look." She turned the computer around, and Yui looked. Four years ago, it would have been nonsensicle information to her and Kyoko, but spending time with Naoko and her MAGI monstrosity had warped them. She sifted through data, following number patterns, the data waves of sympathetic resonance to…something that made no sense.

"There, you see it?" Kyoko said, excited. "You were in Unit-o1, we read one set of biometric data, right? Once you began making contact and establishing resonance, that data begins to diverge. You make full contact before we can stop, we pull you out and…"

"…there's two readings." Yui shook her head, and leaned back. "Did…did Unit-01 make a copy of my…soul?"

"Careful use of that word there," Kyoko chided, "But yes. It looks like Unit-01 xeroxed you. We're gonna have more Yui's running around than we'll know what to do with!" she teased.

"So…I guess that makes sense. Establish resonance, there's nothing there 'alive' to begin with, so it latches on to the first biometric pulses it receives like a moth to the flame. And then…it makes its own. Makes…a soul."

"There's that word again," Kyoko sighed. "Well, Unit-01 is up now," Kyoko said. "With this data, we can pattern someone into Unit-02, and then we have _two_ Evas locked and ready."

"And Unit-00?" Naoko asked.

"Mostly it was grown just as a physical prototype," Yui admitted. Naoko shrugged.

"Yeah, but someone's going to want to see it move," she said.

"Well…let's cross that bridge when we come to it," Kyoko said. "Right now, we have a test scheduled for one week, and since you went into 01, I'm scheduling myself for 02."

Yui felt uneasy with that. "I'm thinking it should be me, since I…"

"The cells in 02 are mine, and you are not in any state to start another test," Kyoko said decisively. "Besides, with the data we have and Naoko at the wheel, we can have a _much_ safer test the second time around." She smiled, excited.

Yui felt less thrilled.

* * *

Strannix received the phone call later in the day, from his contact in Nerv. "They ran a test today. It went sour, but they're planning another one in one week. If things go like they did today..."

"Can you sabotage the tests and make sure they do?" Strannix asked.

"No way. I couldn't get close enough to them to interfere, but you'll have all the scientists collected together in one location. I can, as well, ensure that the girl will be where you need her."

Strannix nodded. "You're a good friend. We'll remember you when."

"Remember my payment. That's all I want." The phone clicked off.

One week. They could wait for one more week.


	17. Do Over

**June 28, 2024 - Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3, Japan**

The week came, and the week went. Kyoko had worked tirelessly to ensure everything was perfectly calibrated according to the data reaped from the first Contact experiment, and approached the day in a good mood. She had asked Martin to bring Asuka to watch, thinking the little girl would get a kick out of watching her mother control Unit-02. She was thinking about them as she stood in the locker room, her red Plug suit on and her interface headset in hand. It had been assembled yesterday, a method of cutting down on the noise that seemed to form between Yui and Unit-01. Another of Naoko's little toys.

"Decent?" Martin's voice called from the entrance.

"Come in," she said.

Martin entered, dressed in civilian clothing, something he was allowed to do as a contractor with the Security Section. Asuka was gripping his hand, very tightly. She was a real daddy's girl, and he was like a piece of melting putty in her hands. Her hair was loose, but two ponytails with red ribbon had been braided on top of her locks. It was something Kyoko did this morning, and it looked darling on her.

Kyoko gave them a radiant smile. "Well," she said, spinning on her heel. "What do you think?"

"It looks good," Martin said. Kyoko had an excellent figure, and the Plug suit was _very_ flattering. "Too bad I don't like what it means."

"Spoilsport," she sighed. "It'll be fine. What do you think, Little Mouse?"

"Looks neat," Asuka murmured, unconvinced.

"Well that's a sour face," Kyoko said, crouching down. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to do it, Mommy," Asuka said. "Rei told me about her Mommy. I…" she swallowed, her fingers working. "What if you get hurt?"

"Mousie, I'll be fine," Kyoko said, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's face. "I take good care of myself, and everyone else is going to take care of me, too. I've checked everything. I'll be fine!"

"Please don't," Asuka asked, suddenly nervous. "Please don't. I don't want you to, please."

Kyoko felt her throat tighten. She hadn't anticipated having to deal with this, and her smile dropped. She cupped her daughter's face in her hands. "Honey…I'll be fine. I love you so much, and that means I'll take care of myself and be safe. I'll be back before you know it, okay?"

Asuka looked unhappy, but she didn't argue. Martin leaned over his daughter. "Mäuschen, could you give me and your mother a moment?" Asuka yanked at his arm for a second, then left the locker room. Martin waited until she was gone, before turning and gathering his wife in his arms. It was a rapid movement, and Kyoko gasped in surprise. He had buried his nose in her hair, and held her tightly.

"Just…I won't stop you. I never do. But _be careful_," he pleaded. It was a vulnerable side of him that she had never seen before. She leaned into his embrace, warm.

"You know me. Always careful," she said, smiling.

"We'll be on the observation deck."

"I'll be watching."

* * *

Kubohara checked his watch again. "Gonna be late for something?"

He glanced up, a sudden sweat starting in the small of his back. "What?"

"That's like the fifth time you've check your watch in the last hour," Mito laughed, tacking on her keyboard.

Kubohara laughed, and said, "Oh, just can't wait for the day to end."

"Big date tonight?" Mito asked, a tone of mock hurt in her voice.

"Something like that," Kubohara replied, staring at the office door. Dr. Ikari was in there with the kids, which meant she was in there with the girl. He had told Kingfisher that he could get the girl to where she needed to be, but in all truth he didn't know if he could. He had figured that she would be here today; Ikari brought them up every chance she could get, but that had been a gamble either way. It had paid off, but that was only one step. Now he had to get the freak.

Ikari's office door opened, and Ikari crossed the hallway. She leaned in through the door. "Mito, could I ask you to watch the kids?" Ikari asked.

"I'm sorry, Doc, I have these background checks to organize," Mito said. "I'm already backed up."

"I'll get 'em," Kubohara said. "I can take a moment's break."

"Oh, Kubohara, you're a lifesaver," Ikari said, clasping her hands in gratitude. "I'll come back and grab you when I need you, okay?"

He checked the time again. It wouldn't be long, now, until Kingfisher made his move. And now Kubohara had the girl under watch. He just had to wait.

* * *

"Now, it won't feel very good," Yui said.

"Define 'not very good.'" Koyko asked over the comm.

"Um…" Yui turned away, and looked at Gendo as he entered the control room, "How do you describe having your soul sucked out in a way that's not frightening?" Yui asked.

"You don't," Gendo replied, passing through and out the other end, heading towards the loading bay near the entry dock.

Yui turned back to the microphone, grimacing. "Just be prepared for a bit of a roller-coaster." She checked the three monitors in front of her. At least eighteen things were being displayed at the same time, and she glanced through them. Kyoko had done her work well: everything checked out. She glanced over at Naoko, separated by three other technicians and their consoles. Naoko leaned back and returned Yui's look, and gave an 'iffy' gesture with her hand.

"What?" Yui asked.

"Got a vibe. Can't describe it, but something feels off."

"In the instruments?" Yui glanced at her own console in concern.

"No, but that's not what's bothering me," Naoko murmured, scratching her ear. "I can't put a finger on it. Just a vibe."

"Hey…hey losers," Kyoko said, chipper. Her face appeared on a corner of one of Yui's screens, floating happily in the LCL. She was playing with the video comms unit. "I'm bored. Start this puppy up."

Yui glanced at Naoko one more time, and the older woman shrugged. "Okay, Kyoko. Beginning the synchronization sequence now." Yui nodded, and a technician began flipping switches on the board in front of him.

"Synchronization procedures started. Phase I initiated," he murmured, sensing the discomfort in the room. Yui looked at her own readings. So far, so good.

"Kyoko, we've started the process. Feel anything?"

"Tingling. This is wild…I _think_…I can feel the LCL Unit-o2 is in. Comes and goes. Huh." She had a goofy look on her face, apparently enjoying herself. Yui couldn't help but smile, listening with half an ear as another technician announced Phase II had begun. Her readings were still good, but then Naoko muttered.

"Naoko?" Yui asked.

"These readings aren't right," Naoko said. "Yui…the synchronization is proceeding at pace, but…there's no doubled signature. There's only one, going from one source into the next." It took Yui a moment to realize what Naoko was saying. Naoko wouldn't get the implications of that, but she knew something about it was wrong. Yui, on the other hand, knew how bad it was. Naoko read her expression, and a realization of her own dawned.

"Shut it down," she snapped to the technicians, Naoko already closing programs and beginning a draw-down sequence. "We're pulling her, cancel the experiment."

"Yui, things are going off-line. Is everything okay?" Kyoko asked.

"Kyoko, this experiment is done. We have bad readings down here and need to pull you out."

"Are you sure?" Kyoko asked, mild concern in her voice. "Instruments in here are good, everything is showing—" An alarm on the console started blaring, and Unit-02 shuddered like a man shaking rain from his shoulders. "Whoa, easy," Kyoko said, trying to soothe her mount. She glanced into the video feed. "Readings are still good, but I felt that."

"Why is it moving!" Yui demanded.

"We're being locked out!" an engineer stammered, "Full sympathetic resonance is proceeding automatically, it's ignoring every keystroke. That's…" He squinted at his monitor. "God's teeth, it's jumped to Phase _V_! It's fully up!"

"Manual shutdown is not working," a second engineer cried, stabbing at the release charges on the board. Small puffs of smoke appeared on the creature at its neck, emergency charges that should have separated the links in the Plug to the Eva and halted synchronization.

"Yui, I'm having trouble seeing in here," Kyoko said, still calm but sounding haggard. "I…mmm…my hands don't want to work."

"Eject the pod!" Naoko ordered. A tech lunged at the console and turned the 'emergency eject' lock, then pounding the key. Tongues of flame rose from the back of the Eva, yet the Plug remained firmly locked. Unit-02 began trembling, shivering madly.

"I….Yui…cold…very cold…very cold…very cold…" Kyoko was murmuring, curling into a trembling ball on screen. Suddenly, the Plug cut loose, smashing into the loading dock and demolishing it. It wedged itself firmly into the catwalk, and begin leaking orange LCL.

Unit-02 spasmed, and screamed. It was an unearthly, animal shriek that had a haunting, _human_ note under its moan. It's arms shuddered, and it jittered in place as though afflicted with Tourette's. Gradually, the scream died down, and the spasmodic dance slowed, and then stopped. Unit-02 had gone back to sleep. Yui stared at it, in shock, in abject horror, and then saw movement on the catwalk. Gendo was racing across it towards the Plug.

* * *

He wasn't sure how he had gotten out ahead of the emergency personnel. The feeling from the last test had left an ugly taste in his mouth, and he did not want to stay in the control room. Instead, he found himself lingering near the loading bay. He had stood silently, listening to the exchange via loudspeakers in the ceiling, and as soon as the Plug cut loose, he was moving. It wasn't a conscious decision. It just happened.

As Gendo was rushing towards the steaming pod, he was passed by two Nerv emergency personnel in asbestos smocks. "Stay back, damn it," one of them snapped, putting a firm hand on Gendo's chest and pushing, "That thing will cook you alive!"

Gendo slowed his pace, feeling cold. It was a stupid thing for him to try and get involved. He was the Director of Nerv-Japan, and had no emergency response experience or training. Trying to involve himself would just result in _two_ injuries and slow down the professionals. He felt lost, and looked down from the catwalk, over the technicians watching from the observation deck perched over the LCL lake. He saw, with numb horror, that Asuka was down there with her father, staring at the whole ordeal and tugging spasmodically at his shirt. He was rock still, his hands folded on each other and the knuckles white. They had both seen all of it, seen everything. Probably heard it, too.

The Director swallowed a lump in his throat, and turned back towards the Plug. The entry hatch had been smashed on the way out, and wasn't opening completely. The two specialists had wedged a pry bar into the hatch, and were forcing it open bit by bit as they were bathed in a fountain of LCL. Yui appeared next to Gendo, having run from the control room all the way here. She tried to say something,

"God, God, God…!" was all she could manage. More emergency personnel brushed by them as the hatch finally sprang loose, falling off the hinges and splashing into the LCL lake below. Kyoko poured out of the hatch like a newly foaled colt, limp and wet as a fish.

"Dr. Soryu. Dr. Soryu!" one of the emergency crew started chanting, as another waved over the medical personnel. "She's conscious," he finally said, and Yui felt relief. Maybe the test had gone off. Maybe it was all right. Then she heard Kyoko, low but distinct over the bustle of bodies on the catwalk.

"Fish and cream, lox. I like lox, lox on toast. Toast is good, white bread makes the best toast, not rye, what day was yesterday?"

"Dr. Soryu, do you know where you are?" one of the paramedics asked. He was leaning over her, shining a light in each eye.

"Dogs, dogs are fine, smell funny, shed, small dogs better, not big dogs, scared of big dogs…" Yui hurried over, watching as they moved her onto a stretcher and latched her in.

"Take her to the Infirmary," the attending medic said.

"Kyoko! Kyoko!" Yui said, moving next to the stretcher and pushing between the medics. "Kyoko, look at me. Are you all right? Please be all right."

"Butterscotch pudding…mother…stamp…water…" She began squirming on the stretcher, trying to sit up against the stabilizing restraints. "God is in the hallway…we'll all die! The room is too small! Christ, you idiots! You filthy idiots!" she screamed.

Yui felt her pace drop, and she stopped in her tracks, staring. The hope was gone, and the uncertainty had returned.

From the deck below, Asuka watched.

* * *

Gendo found Martin in his office, Asuka in his lap and snuffling. She had been crying hard before he had come up, and her face was sopping. "Kyoko's in the infirmary right now," Gendo said. "We have one of our best doctors on staff assisting her, Dr. Kenchy Dhuwalia. He's young, but smart, and knows his stuff."

Martin nodded, patting Asuka. "Up, hon," he whispered, and she squirmed off his lap so he could stand. Gendo closed the door behind him, scratching his eyebrow. "She was just…shooting from the hip, right? When she was talking?"

Gendo shrugged, going to his desk and sitting on the edge. He felt very tired. "It was just…scatter shot. She was just spouting off whatever was randomly coming to mind. They have her sedated, but not out. Dr. Dhuwalia is concerned what might happen if they put her under completely, so they're keeping her awake to see if things…sort out. He figures that she's just scrambled, and maybe…with time…"

"Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense," Martin said, pacing the office. Asuka sat in a chair, staring at Gendo with wide eyes. "We had something like that happen when I was in the Heer. Had a fellow in an auto-accident, when his jeep rolled. Head injury, you know. He kept talking about soup recipes for three hours. Perfectly conscious, everything okay, but he couldn't talk about…anything but soup. Just disorganized…upstairs," he said.

"Is my mommy going to be okay?" Asuka asked. Gendo turned his attention to the girl. Her hands were in her lap, fingers interlaced and locked so tight that they were bone white.

Gendo crossed his arms, regarding her. He glanced at Martin, and Martin nodded gently. He never lied or tried to sugarcoat things in his family, and he didn't feel anyone else should either. "Uh…" Gendo said, "Asuka, we're really not sure. I want to say that she _will_ be okay, but her head has been hurt. That means…we don't know. She could be okay, or…she could be bad for a very long time."

"Did that robot do this to her?" she asked. Gendo interpreted that as to mean 'did that thing do this on purpose.'

"No, no it didn't," he said, "She was hurt by it, but it was an accident. Just s—"

Martin grabbed Gendo's arm, his eyes glazed. Gendo stared in confusion, then flinched as he heard it. Muffled, quiet, but there. Gunfire coming from inside the Center.


	18. The Kingfisher

**June 28, 2024 - Evangelion Center,** **Tokyo-3, Japan**

There is no real science or special trick to infiltrating a building: you merely had to look like you were supposed to be there. Having electronic passes and other fancy security measures was fine, but a friendly smile, assertive attitude, or the implication that you had to be somewhere fast and no one should bother you tended to open doors just as quickly.

This combined with the fact that Nerv, despite having a layered security apparatus on the outside, was still essentially a scientific institution. Groups run by the military tended to have severe paranoia crafted into every security measure they came up with, and even then there were often glaring holes if one knew where to look. Scientific institutions did not even begin to ponder those implications, and even institutions of hazardous research and expensive equipment tended to have skeleton security teams in place.

If anything, Nerv was the exception to the rule.

In the end, though, Strannix's organization initiated their infiltration by the oldest method in the book: they mailed themselves in. It was such a simple, audacious, and unthinkably ridiculous method, and yet it worked. They would not be the first infiltrators in history to 'mail' themselves somewhere, and they would not be the last, either.

The crux lay in a flaw in package receiving policies that Nerv had in place. All packages and crates were scanned and searched, save for those marked with Gehirn Priority Alpha access. That denoted sensitive materials within the box, which could be damaged when exposed to the air or searched electronically. They were rare packages, but highly important. Usually, these packages were signed at the gate, brought in, and taken immediately to their destination under guard. Usually.

The next flaw in the arrangement lay in receiving erroneous packages. If a package came that was marked to someone who was not located at the Center, but addressed to the Center anyway, the normal procedure was to move it into a storage room until the error could be sorted out. The fact that the storage room seconded to Security for this purposes was right next to the central security office was one of those things that simply hadn't occurred to anyone. Like most civilian based security outfits, Nerv Security was composed of several sections of varying ability and resources. The CERT unit, for instance, was on par with most government emergency response teams. The outer-marker security apparatus ran with the efficiency of a military police unit.

The Center's internal security was more or less security guards, and certainly not on par with a military unit in training or equipment. None of this would have been known on the outside, and it was an obscure arrangement of flaws that made for the perfect, glaring hole.

Which is how three mercenaries in Nerv security uniforms were infiltrated into the Center. Placed in a large crate marked 'Fragile' with 'Priority Alpha' access, addressed to the Evangelion Center, to be received by a Clint Greer (a researcher at the Nerv-America facility in San Francisco), the crate was moved to the storage unit and forgotten about as they attempted to contact said-Clint Greer. Watching the whole thing from a specialized screen inside the crate, using six-varying micro-cameras, the infiltration team was able to determine when they were where they needed to be, and when to break out. The crate surveillance system was a clever arrangement, built using parts from a local electronics store. Easy enough to rig up and create.

Once in, the team members left the box, exited the storage unit, and proceeded straight to the security office. It was built with some idea of security in place, and had features (_significant_ features) that Strannix's team knew nothing about. That was irrelevant, as only a very few things were important to the group in question. In any sense, the office itself was designed with a modicum of a blockade-mentality: it lay at the end of a ten foot hallway, at the heart of the Center, with a single camera panning above the door and watching the hallway, and two more at the corners of extreme ends of the main passage. By necessity, the operators inside the windowless room had to sit with their backs to the door, but it was sealed at all times.

The mercenaries walked down the hall, knocked on the door, and said they had been tasked with a routine check of the room.

Protocol dictated that the doors remained sealed until shift changes, but it was easy to forget protocol when things were usually calm. One of the two guards on duty shrugged, and went to the door to see what the issue was. He opened it, and received a collapsible baton strike to the face. The other turned in surprise, and received a similar blow.

They were strangled to death as the third mercenary in the team sealed and locked the door, and proceeded to begin taking charge of the Center's automated security devices. It was Gehirn security policy to centrally integrate all automated systems. Thus, everything was tied to this one office. In essence, it meant that the outer-markers automated systems, the stored sentry bots, the security doors, _everything_, could be controlled by one person. And if that one person was unfriendly…

The mercenary took a radio and switched to channel 221.2, and barked, "Wile E. Coyote to Road Runner."

"This is Road Runner, go ahead," came the reply, Strannix's voice.

"We're in ACME right now and waiting for bird seed," the mercenary said with a grin.

"Beep-beep. We'll be in presently," Strannix replied, and signed off.

* * *

Three large trucks bore down on Gate North, one of the four main entrances onto the Evangelion Center's campus. It was, like the others, well-guarded with a double-gate system and armored guards. The gate master went up to the first truck's cab, seeing two Westerners inside. That wasn't an odd sight in Tokyo-3 these days, especially at Nerv.

"We've got a delivery for the Center," the passenger said with a tooth grin. "We don't know what's in the trailers, but they're sealed with a Priority Alpha tag."

"We have no record of a delivery at this time," the gate master said. "Let's see your orders."

"We have none," the driver replied, irritated, "They said pull up to the gate and we'd be waved through."

"Who is 'they?'" the gate master asked, suspiciously. Before anyone else could speak, however, one of the guards leaned out of the gate office.

"Sir," he called, "The security office just sent an all-clear for these vehicles. One of the scientists was expecting it and forgot to report it in."

The gate master grimaced. The scientists needed to be reminded of these procedures on a constant basis, and this was not the first time it happened. "All right," he muttered, "Go on through."

"Thanks kindly, friend," Strannix said, patting the driver on the arm and watching the gate roll by. The Kingfisher was in.

* * *

One truck peeled off from the main group, circling the large main structure of the center and kicking out large crates at key intervals. It seemed odd, but no one questioned it. The other two pulled into the main loading dock, the first backing in slowly, waved on by a dock worker as it came up to the loading platform. It stopped gently, and the worker opened the rear doors. When he did, something…_big_…stood up, scraping the top of the nine-foot ceiling of the trailer.

"Oh…my…" the worker managed before three 30-mm spikes ripped into him at point-blank range. The other truck's doors opened immediately, and a group of men swarmed out, firing on the dock workers and killing all of them before they could respond or call for help. The first truck's trailer flowered open, as the combat cyborgs inside ripped their way out. In the meantime, the crates outside burst open as the TO sentries kicked online and began their patrol circuits around the Center, firing on anyone they did not recognize.

The cyborgs immediately took charge of the main dock, the only entrance that couldn't be effectively sealed from the security office. The commando team organized by Strannix immediately began a hard push towards the Infirmary, lead by an advance team, flanked by a rear guard, and carrying a mass of equipment at the center of the body. If their intelligence was correct, the girls would be held in a special set of offices fairly close by, and if the tests today had been anything like they were last time, there would be a group of people collected in the Infirmary: ready-made hostages.

The rest of the Center's employees could be sequestered and blocked off in separate chambers and hallways by the team in the security office, sealing away any responses and opening a straight line of access from the docks to the Infirmary for Strannix's team.

That didn't mean _all_ security was tied off. Five guards, alerted by reports of something happening at the docks, ran into the commando team halfway from one point to the next. They were armed with pistols, while the mercenaries were armed with 10mm submachine guns. It was short work, but noisy. It was these fire reports that Martin had heard echoing and amplified through air vents and hallways.

Continuing at speed, they ignored anyone who had no weapon, as screaming and running did nothing to hinder their movement, and were even able to herd four or five unattached people in the direction they were going. They pushed into the large Infirmary, which was already being sealed in from the security office. When all was said and done, they were able to take fifteen people, including (though the mercenaries had yet to realize this), Dr. Yui Ikari. She was next to Kyoko's bed when they had moved in.

The mercenaries herded everyone onto the main floor. Yui and Dr. Kenchy Dhuwalia, the attending physician to Kyoko, had to wheel the delirious woman on a gurney out of her room, in order to be with the rest of the group. She was still sedated, but becoming restless. Yui had little time to think about that, however, when the masked leader of the mercenaries addressed the crowd, reading from a prepared speech.

"We represent the Golden Army, who is fighting to reestablish American independence of action in the world. We consider the Nerv Pact to be nothing more than an entangling alliance which has sapped the United States of its hard earned liberty and made it a slave and servant to lesser nations in the world. Are actions here today are the testament of our will." Strannix grunted, folding up the paper, and looking at the hostages.

"Here's the ground rules: try and be hero, we will kill you and the person next to you. Sit where we can see you, keep your mouths shut, and do what you're told, and you might get to go home when this is done. If you do not comply, we'll kill you and throw your body outside for the nightly news to ogle over. We don't have a lot of rules, but that's all right, since the violation for _any_ of them is death.

"On a side note, you will see four boxes placed at cardinal points of this room. Yes, they are explosives. Any questions? None? Good." He breezed through his spiel, giving no one any time to respond. He turned, and left the Infirmary to enter his ad-hoc command post, where he removed his balaclava. He sighed, scratching at his messy hair. So far, so good.

"Anyone hungry?" he asked. "I could eat a horse, right now."


	19. Old Hands at Bat

**June 28, 2024 - Public Security Central Directorate, Tokyo-2, Japan**

Tokyo-2 had become the 'Security' headquarters of the three Tokyos, housing the central offices for the Self-Defense Forces, the Expeditionary Forces, the government police forces, and the intelligence services. It made communication among the varied armed and unarmed branches of the security apparatus fairly fluid, especially without close oversight. Fortunately, nothing bad had come from that yet.

In fact, inter-service aid had increased to a certain extent, which was why Aramaki was not surprised to see Kubota's number on his phone. "Kubota," he said, taking the call in his office, "What can I do for you?"

"Are you watching the news?"

Aramaki turned on his television immediately. He always kept one of the 24-hour news cycles as his default channel, and at the moment, it was talking about a terrorist seizure of the Evangelion Center in Tokyo-3. He leaned back, stunned. He was always the first to hear about these sort of things.

"I take it by that telling silence you were in the dark," Kubota asked unhappily.

"When did this happen?"

"Thirty minutes ago. A team of mercenaries operating under the purview of the Golden Army stormed the place with combat cyborgs and TriOptimum box sentries. They have fifteen actual hostages inside, but there are significantly more people trapped in the center."

"Which means they have hold of the central security office," Aramaki murmured. "Why have we not received any news of this?"

"The SDF just 'officially' found out when Nerv's security branch requested anti-armor weaponry," Kubota said. "We're still trying to figure out how to sign it over, since this has never happened before."

"Why isn't the SDF moving in?" Aramaki asked, concerned.

"We've been forbidden to," Kubota said. "This is on Nerv property, so it's a Nerv issue. Gehirn is insisting that we hold back."

Something tickled in Aramaki's mind at that. "What possible reason could they have to do that?"

"They've given several. Safety of the hostages, the ability of their own CERT units to handle the situation, paramount independence of Nerv from any one government body, sensitivity of the research inside, you name it. Their lawyers are more loopy than fruit bats, and they've got us tied up in red tape."

This sounded like a power play. "Is Director Gendo Aramaki in the building?"

"As far as we can tell."

That sealed it. This was too conveniently arranged to be a mere terrorist action. Whether it was to take out Ikari or seize something else in the Center, this had Kihl stamped on it.

"So…why are you calling Public Security? Think we'll have leeway where you don't?" Aramaki asked.

"No, but I know that if anyone knows how to untangle things, it's you," Kubota said, "You've had more experience with bureaucratic infighting then I have, and frankly, I think you'd be better for handling a hostage standoff than the military. The SDF got this thrown into their lap, and we still don't know what to do with it. It's only been fairly recent that we've been expected to handle internal security in the country to this scale."

Aramaki pondered that. At his current position in Public Security, he himself had remarkably leeway in what he could do and where he could go. "I'll check with the Director," he said, "And I'll probably get a go. In the meantime, who do you have handling the situation on site?"

"No one, but we've dispatched a CPT Motoko Kusanagi to the scene. She's been seconded to us from the Expeditionary Forces Special Operations Directive. Experienced in covert infiltration, but hostage rescue may be a bit new to her."

"Let me guess: she worked in a wet works unit."

"I'm not at liberty to confirm or deny that," Kubota said flatly. "I can say that she's talented, and that's an understatement. With someone like you calling the shots for her, _and_ if we can get this leash taken off…well…" Kubota trailed off, but Aramaki got the gist.

He smiled, and said, "I will call you in twenty minutes." He hung up the phone, and doodled a small diagram on the paper in front of him, to gather his thoughts.

Gehirn blocked movement by the Japanese to actively assist the Center, and Gehirn was run by Lorenz Kihl, who obviously had it out for Gendo Ikari and vice versa. Considering also the fact Nerv's international security policies were centrally directed on parameters and guidelines set by Gehirn, and it seemed too pat. Aramaki placed himself in Kihl's shoes for a moment, running the scenario as if he were the German.

He couldn't see much of the reason and why for the raid, but he could see the results: either a nationalization of Nerv property by its constintuent states, which would not serve Kihl's interests at all, or an increase in the funding, militarization, and autonomy of Nerv. It would take a genius to pull that kind of an outcome out of _this_, especially in light of the attempts to push N2 weaponry into Nerv hands. Kihl had demonstrated his ability, however, to pull off some interesting outcomes. Germany's central position in Europe and its dominance of the Gehirn Council was testamant to that.

Aramaki pulled up a case file for the Golden Army. An American anti-Nerv outfit in the United States, well-organized but not especially well-funded. Good scapegoats, who would be unable to actively defend themselves against allegations following some independent whack-job claiming allegiance to the group. It also drew attention away from the issues created in this situation by Gehirn itself: considering the first-world situation in the wake of the Paris Outbreak, it was inevitable that untouched Japan would have more issues than simply Aomori. Gehirn would be ignored while the implications of the anti-Nerv movement would be discussed. Now you see it, now you don't.

"If Kihl pulls this off," Aramaki muttered, "I'll call him a magician." He stood, to go speak to the Director. Maybe Lorenz Kihl was a magician, but in the end it was all smoke and mirrors. One just had to know where to shine the light.


	20. In the Rafters

**Notes from Gob Hobbling: **I don't know why, but I have Lance Henrikson in mind every time I write for Martin. Anybody else getting that vibe? No? Just me?

I blame Millennium.

**June 28, 2024 - Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3, Japan**

Twenty minutes before Kubota's phone call to Aramaki, Strannix had found that there was one hitch in his plan: his informant was missing. As was the girl.

"So where is that Kubohara creep?" Strannix was vaguely irritated to learn that Kubohara was _not_ in the Infirmary as promised, and that

"We don't know," Pitts muttered, "He may be late. He may have lost his nerve. Hell, the idiot may have gotten lost."

"Everybody knows what he looks like?"

"We've circulated his image among the boys…not that he _knows_ we have his image," Krieg said, an ugly grin on his face.

"There's another issue," Daulmer said. "We think Director Ikari's still in the building. If we had him down here with the rest of the hostages…" Daulmer let that linger in the air, and Strannix nodded. The kid was supposed to be Ikari's, so grabbing the Director might grease some palms a bit. Further, having him would make the entire operation seem more in line with their 'anti-Nerv' image.

"All right. Grab Zeegs, grab Hutch. Send them up to the Director's office. If we can get Gendo Ikari it'll…confuse the issue on the outside. Make him send out some forced communiques or some crap like that. Might even help us find the girl. As they're moving, remind them to look for a pencil-necked idiot with a blue-haired kid. If they happen to come across him first, they can forget the Director for the time being and bring her back."

"What about the others?" Daulmer asked, referring to the nine remaining clones.

"They're in a 'fish tank,' according to our intel, in a lab on this level. They won't be going anywhere. Worry about them later."

"How are we moving them if they die when they leave the tank?"

Strannix gave Daulmer a withering look. "Daulmer, Daulmer, Daulmer…they never said bring back the brats _alive_."

* * *

Kozo Fuyutsuki watched from the doorway as people hurried down the hall, the sound of shouting and firearms coming closer. He quickly sealed the lab, and turned towards the Tank. It was a massive thirty foot by twenty foot by forty foot structure, sealed and filled to the brink with oxygenated LCL. Inside, nine little girls floated in one piece swimsuits numbered 1 through 9, further elaborated with their names. All of them were pressed up to the glass, sensing the turmoil in the building.

"What's going on, Uncle Kozo?" Haru asked, her voice projected from speakers in the wall. She was usually the most vocal of the Mermaids, as Kozo had come to call the girls.

"I don't know, but I think we'd better hide you all," he said, "Do you girls remember the Duck and Cover room?" Some nodded enthusiastically, others decidedly less so. "I'm going to put you all down there until we know what's going on."

"Is Mommy okay?" Tsukiko asked. One of the four healthier ones, she was also a bit of an apron grabber. She could be clingy, and lead the others into fits of being equally clingy.

"I'm going to find out. Now, all of you get away from the glass. I'm going to lower you now." He sat down at the main console, and keyed up the Duck and Cover program.

The Duck and Cover room was installed primarily as a means to defend the girls against natural disasters, a sort of 'safe room' environment. The N2 strike in Aomori had sped up the design and installation of the system, and it was one of several 'off-the-book' safety features designed and spearheaded by Naoko Akagi. Once tripped, the entire tank and its re-breathing apparatus lowered into a sealed vault in the floor. This was something a few of the girls thought simply amazing, whereas the others were highly skeptical of it. He watched as the tank slowly slid, foot by foot, down into its hideaway. The more enthusiastic ones waved to him as though it was a big game, and he waved and smiled back.

Very soon, the whole tank was in the floor, an extra protective panel sliding in place over the spot. Aside from the off-color protective panel in the floor, there was no sign there had been a tank here in the first place.

Initiating the electronic lock, Kozo turned and left the lab, slipping away from the gunfire to try and find a better vantage from which to figure out what was going on.

Martin had his head in the hallway, listening for a moment, before turning to back to Gendo. "You don't have an issued sidearm, do you?"

Gendo shrugged. There had been the attempt to issue him one specifically on virtue of his VIP position, but he had no fondness for weapons. Martin nodded, a sad look on his face, and turned away from the door. "What's happening, Daddy?" Asuka asked.

"Something bad, but we're going to fix it," Martin said bluntly. "First thing, though, is getting you two to a panic room." There were panic alcoves littered throughout the Center, seal-able public spots meant to offer protection during disaster. There were also a dozen or so hidden 'panic rooms,' larger areas constructed during the momentary fear that had gripped the area during the fallout from the Aomori incident. It was on of these that Martin was thinking of.

"Okay. We'll follow your lead," Gendo said, knowing that Martin was probably the one man in the room who could be considered an expert on what was happening. The German leaned into the hallway, glancing left then right, and then signaled for Asuka and Gendo to follow. They hurried down the corridor and turned a corner when they ran into Naoko.

"God in heaven, what's happening?" she asked, her face white.

"Someone is shooting in the Center and that's all I know," Martin said. "I'm getting them to a safe room." He jerked a thumb to Gendo and Asuka.

"Which one were you going to?" Naoko asked.

"The only one I know about is one floor down on the North Wing."

"There's a better one, near Yui's office. Right underneath us," Naoko said. She would have a better handle on where the hidden rooms were then Martin, so he nodded.

"Point the way, Naoko," he said.

* * *

Kubohara was in the office with the kids when he heard the shooting. He checked his watch in shock, and realized that twenty minutes had gone by and he was not where he was supposed to be. He had been dealing with this Shinji kid prattling on about his stupid penguin, all while Rei asked him questions about what he did and if he liked his job and if he wasn't a scientist why he was here, and God help him he would _never_ have children.

And now he was out of position. The Kingfisher would kill him. Not figuratively, either. Literally murder him and put the corpse out on display. "Uh, kids, we need to go," he stammered.

"Mommy said stay here," said Rei, hearing the gunshots but not knowing what they were. Shinji did, however.

"Someone's shooting!" he said, concerned but _highly_ interested. There was an instinct in little boys that told them that, whenever something dangerous was happening, it was imperative that they go and watch.

"That's…nothing, kids. But it _might_ be an emergency, so we need to go and find your mommy. Right?" He smiled nervously, and the kids regarded him skeptically. This was ridiculous; _he_ was the adult. Where did these kids come off looking at _him_ like he was the idiot?

"Look, we're going, march, come on!" he said, opening the door. He grabbed Rei with his left hand, and Shinji with his right, and Rei squirmed.

"Don't hold my hand!" Shinji snapped, yanking.

"A lady on the left is no lady at all!" Rei squealed.

"What?" Kubohara asked, stunned by the double assault.

"Mommy said it. I'm a lady, I need to be on the right!" she insisted. "Ladies go on the right!"

"I'm not a lady!" Shinji balked, "I don't want to be on the right!" Kubohara glared at them, his mind trying to process exactly what was happening. The image of a man with a pistol pointed at his head entered Kubohara's mind. 'Ladies on the right,' the phantom sneered, and pulled the trigger.

"Fine, fix yourselves," he mumbled. The children went to their appropriate positions. He tried it again, and again, Shinji backed away.

"I'm six, I don't need you to hold my hand," Shinji snapped.

"I'll hold your hand," Rei offered, trying to be the peacemaker. Kubohara glanced at her, trying to process his thoughts, then turned back to Shinji.

"Why are you complaining about hand holding?" the man insisted.

"Because it's weird for guys to hold hands," Shinji insisted.

"You have a stuffed penguin!" Kubohara hissed, trying to keep his temper.

"I'll hold your hand!" Rei said again, a bit more insistent. The arguing was starting to bother her.

"Yeah," Shinji countered, still squared up to Kubohara, "But I'm not trying to hold a boy's hand." Kubohara counted to ten, made it to three, and simply grabbed Shinji's shoulder and propelled him out of the office, yanking Rei off of her feet with a squeak.

"You're pulling too hard," Rei whined, unable to keep up. Shinji, who was having an easier time of it, kicked Kubohara in the shin.

"Ow! What the hell?" the man snapped.

"You're pulling too hard and hurting Rei. And you said a bad word," Shinji snapped. More gunfire continued somewhere in the building. Kubohara stared at the boy.

"I…am…sorry. Can we go?"

"Apologize to Rei," Shinji snapped.

"Gkk…djj…sprk…" Kubohara's face turned beet red, and he threatened to burst a blood vessel. He turned and glared at Rei, who gazed back with innocent red eyes. "I…am…sorry…" he hissed.

"That's okay," she said, sweetly, though somewhat unnerved by how angry Kubohara had become. The man breathed deep, closed his eyes, and opened them. He began walking again, pulling the children a bit more gently this time. He turned a corner, and slid to a stop, shocked.

Martin Langley and Gendo Ikari were four feet away and walking towards him, the little Soryu girl and Dr. Akagi behind. At Kubohara's appearance, all of them stopped and stared. Kubohara made a strange, high-pitched noise that sounded vaguely like, "Awp!" and stood very still.

"Who are you?" Martin demanded, seeing the kids.

"Ku…Ku…Ku…" he whispered, sweating as he stared at the man. Martin was not large, but there was a presence about him that made him seem much bigger.

"Kubohara, with Personnel. He shares an office with Suyi Mito across from Yui's office. Where's Mito now?" Naoko answered, recognizing him from her visits to Yui's office.

"She's…lunch break…don't know…" Kubohara whispered.

"Why do you have them?" Martin snapped, suspicious. He was staring at the way Kubohara had Shinji's shirt in his hand.

"I…was…watching the kids," he stammered, "For Dr. Ikari…and…I…" He couldn't lie under pressure, and this was too awkward.

"It's fine," Martin said, inadvertently saving Kubohara from having to confess. "It's all fine. I'm moving my daughter, Dr. Akagi, and the Director to a safe room. You'll go in with Shinji and Rei."

"Yes, sir," Kubohara said. Crap. Crap crap crap crap. He tried to think of a way out of this, but that Martin fellow gave him the creeps. Further, Kubohara had no idea what to do when faced with the intimidating Gendo Ikari and Naoko Akagi. He felt very much like vomiting.

Shinji hugged his penguin protectively when he saw Asuka, but she said nothing about it. He seemed confused by that, and in his mind, he didn't know if he was pleased or upset that the little girl wasn't trying to take Pen-Pen away, and he couldn't figure out why he was confused about _that_ to begin with. "Daddy, where's Mommy?" Rei pleaded, wanting to rush to her father but still holding Kubohara's hand, like she promised.

"Uncle Martin is going to go find her," Gendo said, as the group rushed by and Kubohara fell in behind, looking green.

"'Suka, have you been crying?" Shinji asked. When they first started talking, Rei and Shinji had bounced between 'Oska' and 'Suka' when talking to Asuka, and both had ended up with different ways of addressing her. Shinji called her 'Suka,' never having shaken the habit, and Rei called her 'Ska-Ska.'

"No," Asuka said, obviously lying but not wanting to discuss it with Shinji.

"Yes, you have!" Rei said, in shock, seeing her friend's eyes were still red and puffy.

"No, I haven't, stop asking me!" Asuka said, threatening to cry all over. This had been a very stressful day for her, and it was threatening to catch up once more.

"Is something wrong?" Shinji asked.

"Stop asking!" she yelled.

"Kids, quiet now," Martin said, and all of them snapped their mouths shut. Martin was looking at a wall, and depressed a plate. A hatch slid open and to the side, revealing a hidden panic room. Martin waved the kids and adults in. "The next time y0u see me, we'll be letting you out," he said with a wink, and was befuddled to see Dr. Akagi refuse to enter.

"Naoko, please?" Martin asked. She shook her head.

"None of the alarms have gone off," she said. "That means someone's controlling the security office. You'll need me to help shake things up." Martin blinked, and was about to argue when she said, "Martin, MAGI is my baby. It'll do exactly what I ask it to."

"Will we be safe in here, then?" Gendo asked. Naoko nodded.

"All these rooms are off the network. I made sure of that," Naoko said. No sense in a safe room that was opened from just anywhere, after all.

"Be _careful_," Gendo said, as Asuka broke away from his hand and grabbed her dad's shirt.

"Daddy, just come in the safe room. Please don't go," she said.

"Asuka, I'll be careful—"

"Mommy said she would be careful," Asuka snapped. Martin smiled sadly. She looked very much like her mother in this mood. There would be no winning this argument.

"I _will_ be careful," he said, "And the next time you see me I'll be hugging you." Asuka still looked very skeptical, but Martin put a hand on her head and looked at her with serious, pale blue eyes. "There is something bad happening, and I can help fix it. I'm going to go fix it, and then I'll come back." He kissed her on the forehead, and gestured back into the room. She backed up, uncertain. Once she was past the threshold, the door sealed.

* * *

As the hatch closed, so to did Kubohara's dreams of fortune. The little group sat in the panic room, and Kubohara pondered his options. There weren't many. He had made the deal with the Kingfisher because he was greedy. And because he was a coward. Trying to pull success out like this was not in his ability or skills. So he sat, and thought about what would happen. The investigation would eventually lead back to him. Assuming the Kingfisher didn't find him first. Either way, he was done. Jail or a lonely grave somewhere.

As Rei braided Asuka's hair, and Shinji jabbered to his dad about the gunfire, Kubohara began making plans for running to ground as soon as this whole mess was over.


	21. A Meeting of the Minds

**Note from GobHobblin: **Sooo...(glances around sheepishly)...how's everyone been? Yeaaah...long absence...totally unexcused. Just let life get in the way and did nothing to address it. But...I'm back...yay?

**June 28, 2024 – Temporary Command Post, Outskirts of the Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3**

Whenever Aramaki found himself between rival agencies, there was always a great deal of tension and general bravado that needed to be sliced through to accomplish anything. Arriving at the command post outside the Evangelion Center's outer-marker, however, he was surprised to find that everyone was actually on the same page, and equally frustrated. If anything, everyone was incredibly happy just to have _someone_ in charge.

He had never encountered such a situation before, and initially was unsure of what to make of it.

So he gathered his thoughts as he gazed at the slab in front of him, the table top displaying a map of the Evangelion Center's grounds before him. To his left stood Richard Sawara, a Hawaiian-Japanese man who was in charge of the CERT response. He was a dumpy looking man who had an impressive record as a member of three major metropolitan police agencies, the reason he was hired on as the CERT Director.

To Aramki's right stood Motoko Kusanagi, an attractive young woman who had clearly undergone heavy augmentation during her life. Aramaki was impressed upon meeting her; full bodied cyborgs were still rare birds. They either were like the Captain, and of a normal size, or massive machines. Surprisingly, not many people were eager to saw off healthy body parts to become cyborgs, so individuals like the Captain were greatly appreciated in the security forces. Kubota had also arrived, and stood across the table from Aramaki, looking weary. Aramaki sighed, and looked back at Sawara.

"I'm sorry, I'm still having trouble understanding this. So your orders are essentially to _do nothing_?"

"No," Sawara said in exasperation, which was not directed at Aramaki, "I've got constant calls from the Gehirn legal office demanding multiple updates and courses of action respective to each of their individual areas of concern. I have the Security Attache here insisting that I hold off until I receive further notice. I have the CERT team leaders in place and demanding to go in, I have the government's security offices insisting I hand over operational control to them, and I have a collective petition of Nerv leadership _outside_ of Gehirn insisting we give the hostage taker's whatever is necessary to secure the release of the hostages and research materials inside…not always in that order, depending on who's asking." He smiled humorlessly.

Aramaki shrugged. "In essence, your orders are to do nothing, even if they aren't spelled out just so. Does Nerv not have any concept of operational seniority?"

"Of course it does. I've been arguing that the entire time, but it hasn't prevented the dozens of people with bigger paychecks than me telling me what to do. Every protocol that we have in place for dealing with this situation? They've thrown out the window. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that they were trying to sabotage our response."

"You may be right than you want to know," Aramaki said bluntly, and Sawara shrugged.

"I may be, and I may not be. I really don't care: my only concern is the hostages," he replied.

"A good thing to keep focused on," Kusanagi said, smirking. She turned to Aramaki. "We can probably play cloak-and-dagger later, Mr. Aramaki. What's our method of infiltration?"

Aramki stood up straight, scratching the back of his neck. She was right…one problem at a time. "That's the kind of question someone asks when they have an answer themselves," he said, and looked up at her. Her smirk became an almost feral grin.

"Oh, we have a few. Not that Mr. Kubota knows about any of it," she said, winking in his direction. Kubota waved indifferently.

"I already know you Spec-Ops types are a bunch of thieving, mercenary divas. I've lost track of the number of special items that have been written off as lost in classified ops," he replied gently.

"That hurts," Kusanagi said with mock innocence.

"So what did you borrow from your armory?" Aramaki asked, liking the younger woman despite her bravado.

"Type 2402 ThermOptic camouflage, for one," Kusangi said, and all three glanced at her with varying degrees of shock or confusion.

"ThermOptic camoflauge?" Sawara asked in confusion.

"A highly classified item that does NOT exist," Kubota snapped, no longer amused. Kusanagi gave him a baleful look.

"Really, if there was ever an appropriate use for it, this is the time," she said, "The ability to preposition an entry team without detection, then move them to optimal positions to eliminate the hostage takers, is perfect for this kind of camouflage ability."

"I thought that it was still in the test phases? That there were flaws with it?" Aramaki ventured.

"Thank our American friends at Sarif Industries," Kusangi replied, "They've been using them with their Rapid Reaction Forces for minor outbreaks or scouting missions. Good enough to fool the Others, at least."

"That would be of great use to us," Aramaki noted.

"As well as the Seburo Type 34s, with light load rounds," Kusanagi added. Sarawa made a coughing noise, and his expression was one that was impressed. Seburo was a topnotch weapons manufacturer for small arms, and the Type 34 was a marvel of a submachine gun. It was more of a compact, rapid fire rifle, as it took a full sized 5.56 NATO round. It also had an integrated silencer, considered one of the more effective ones in the market. Gunshots were still noisy…after all, they _were_ gunshots…but the Type 34 silencer had gone a long way in reducing the decibels in each round fired.

The light load ammunition, however, would render those guns truly quiet. The powder within each of those rounds produced concussive forces with unique acoustic signatures…they were still loud, but in a way that rendered them easier to baffle and silence. In other words, some egghead somewhere had 'tuned' gunfire, and now silencers could truly make weapons silent.

"What kind of bullet do those rounds carry?" Aramaki asked.

"Hollow point with a resin interior. The shape of the resin will give it the punch to go through body armor, especially at close range, but it will shatter on entry. No 'through the hostage' shots," she said. "Can you imagine? Resin punching through body armor. What will they think of next?" It seemed lost on her that she was probably a greater technological marvel than a bullet design, and Aramaki raised an eyebrow at her priorities.

"You've got nothing for the cyborgs, though," Sarawa pointed out, "And I'm more worried about them than the hostage takers. Those are full bodied combat mechs."

Kusangi nodded. "I haven't worked the details on that yet, I'll admit. Our anti-cyborg weaponry is too bulky to infiltrate with, and we have no rounds for the 34s that will take them down. Besides, knocking them out will let them know we're coming. I don't want them to have any idea what's happening until we've secured the hostages.

"I was figuring we could bypass them, but I'm uncertain how we could do that best. I was hoping you might be able to enlighten us on a way to do so."

"That depends on getting access to the security grid, which we can't get," Sarawa admitted. "Unless…" He scratched his ear. "There are…maybe six or seven access points scattered around the grounds that we might be able to put a specialist on and access MAGI. I mean…we won't be able to immediately control the interior blast doors and corridors, but we can get an idea of what's going on."

"Why didn't you do this before?" Kubota asked.

"Couldn't risk it. The TO bots are patrolling where those access points are. If the camo that the Captain has is as good as she claims it is, though, we can get close enough to set up a remote terminal. We'll be able to then access MAGI from here at the CP, and coordinate an assault."

"Pick your specialists," Aramaki said, and then turned to Kusanagi, "Get them outfitted, and arrange to escort them to the access port of their choosing."

"Roger," they both said, leaving him and Kubota in the bustle of the command post. His friend circled the table, studying Aramaki.

"You're pondering things," Kubota chided. "You have that pondering look."

"They have to know that they are surrounded inside," Aramaki muttered, staring at the model. "How do they intend to escape?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You know that Golden Army line is a load of crock. Those men are there with the intent take something. But what and how? And how do they intend to leave when they get it?"

Kubota shrugged, crossing his arms. "I honestly didn't consider it. If they were who they said they were, a suicidal attempt to take hostages made sense. Looking at it as you say, however…well, how would you exit the building?"

"Same way you would. Redirect their attention elsewhere…" Aramaki began.

"…and go through the sewers," Kubota finished. "Assuming they have sewers. That or go through the top, but I see no way they can do so with us watching this closely."

"And we are watching the exit to the drainage tunnels beneath the Center, correct?"

"Of course," Kubota said. "We have the Coast Guard floating a pair of patrol boats at each exit." Kubota stood up suddenly, unnerved. "Unless…they plan a breakout." Aramaki nodded.

"Exactly. We've assumed we were looking at the whole of the team. There's an asset we are not seeing in play," Aramaki said. "Most likely at one of exits. Has there been any suspicious activity reported by the observation teams?"

"None, but I'll give them the heads up," Kubota added. Aramaki nodded, and continued to ponder the map. There were more pieces in play than seemed, but where were they?

Ah, well…one problem at a time.


	22. Happenings

**June 28, 2024 –Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3**

"Well…" Strannix mumbled. "This is frustrating."

There was, rumor had it, a great big tank filled with little clones waiting to be plundered for profit in this facility. And, rumor further had it, that tank sat in the very room Strannix now stood.

Or it had. Somehow, the great big fishbowl had up and vanished. "They must have sunk it," Daulmer noted, toying a small crease in the floor. Strannix knelt over the crease, running his fingertips along it.

"I thought you said we had all the security arrangements on record," he said testily.

"We did," Daulmer added, perturbed, "This would not be on the record."

"…this is frustrating…" Strannix muttered again. If it wasn't on the record, they didn't know what materials were used in its construction. Which meant that it was quite possible they lacked the necessary breaching equipment. Sure, they could take the explosives they had and try to pop the top…if it killed the tanks inhabitants, that was just too bad. If it was reinforced, however, and the blast did nothing, they would be shy those devices. He scanned the room.

"Can't we just hack the locks for the tank?" Pitt muttered, glancing over the computer banks.

"No," he muttered, "If this is off the record, it's off the network, as well, and I don't want to pull any of our techs out of the security room." He followed Pitt's gaze. "This is where they do their research on the goldfish," he stated. "So they have samples, notes, all of that. Have three men tear this place apart and package what they find. That'll be worth something. I'm going back to check on the hostages. Pitt, grab whoever you need, Daulmer, get started on prioritizing what in this room is important." He left as they gave their affirmatives.

* * *

"Carrots…Little League…played baseball in the coral…couldn't decide between _Evita_ and _Porgy and Bess_…" Kyoko was still under the sedative, but the increased activity and shouting was making her agitated. She was still in the stretcher, with the hostages

"Shut her up," one of the mercenaries said.

Yui stroked Kyoko's hair, trying to calm her down. Dr. Dhuwalia stood next to her, nervous but insistent. "This woman has suffered serious trauma. She can't be quiet, whether she wants to be or not. If you allow me to access the medicine lockers, though, I can get something to help her sleep."

"No one goes anywhere," the man snapped. Yui curled her fingers into Kyoko's hand, but it remained limp. Yui glanced back and forth between Dhuwalia and the irritated terrorist. She was angry, and frustrated, and impatient. At the same time, she was afraid. Anybody who would attack them, when it was clear that they were the key to halting the Others, was someone who already lacked what she considered sound reason. One might as well be in the presence of a rabid dog. There were other fears, insistent and refusing to leave. Where was her husband? Her children? What was going on on the outside? How long could they sit here like this leaving Kyoko untreated?

"Pattern…corkscrew…did you see the sun today? It was so pink!" Kyoko explained.

"I'm tired of listening to the basket case," the terrorist said, pushing through the hostages and kicking those too slow to move. The other mercenaries watched with vague disinterest. Yui couldn't understand why Kyoko was irritating this man so much, and his anger was starting to compound her fear. It was the kind of anger that could lead to something bad.

"And I told you, she can't be quiet," Dhuwalia pleaded. "She lacks the ability!"

"I'd like to have shrimp…you pay, I can't…soup and screws…"

That was last straw. The terrorist whipped his rifle butt across Kyoko's face. It was an almost gentle motion, but she stopped talking. Her eyes were open and glazed, and a trickle of blood and drool flowed from her lips. Yui snapped "Don't!" and threw herself across Kyoko, in case the man decided to strike her again.

Dhuwalia did a very brave thing in that moment. The thin man grabbed the larger terrorist, pushing himself between Kyoko and the man as Yui lay across her friend. "Do NOT…touch…my patient!" Dhuwalia screamed, jabbing a finger in the man's face. A pistol shot sounded, and everyone became still. It was a deafening noise in the infirmary, and Yui's ears rang.

The leader of the terrorists stood at the entrance, and holstered his pistol. "The hell is this?" he asked.

"If you have to take hostages, then take them," Dhuwalia stated before anyone else could, "But I insist that you do not strike my patients! This woman came to us with serious head trauma, and this man just struck her hard in the face! That could compound what trauma is there."

The leader regarded the Indian man, and the thug. For a timeless moment, Yui thought of his earlier threat. Would he kill Dhuwalia? Or Kyoko? "We're just trying to look out for our colleague," she said quietly, in a level voice. "We don't want any harm, we don't want to be any trouble." The leader continued to look at Dhuwalia, then again at the terrorist.

"No more hitting the basket case," he said levelly. "Doctor, I suggest you back away from that man before he decides to put a round in your kneecap."

Dhuwalia glared at the terrorist, then turned away. The man pushed the doctor's shoulder, as a reminder of who was in charge, before heading back to his post at the edge of the hostages. The doctor looked into her eyes. "Her pupils are completely dilated," he muttered. "This is very bad."

Yui was dabbing at the blood and drool, about the only thing she could do now. It was then that she had the unnerving realization as the leader was staring at her. She glanced up at him, and met his eyes. They bored through her, and she felt a new note of unease.

The leader circled the hostages and grabbed the man who had struck Kyoko. "Hey. Idiot." He pointed at Yui. "Who does that look like?" The man looked at her, and back at the leader. He seemed puzzled by the question. The leader slapped the man in the forehead with his palm. "How about Dr. Yui Ikari? Huh? Ringing any bells?" The man seemed to deflate. He began to shrug and mumble, when the leader grabbed his collar and said, "Don't say anything, don't shrug, just grab her and bring her back to the CP, you cross-eyed moron." He then left the room as the thug circled to Yui.

He reached out for her jacket, and she swatted his hand away. "I heard your boss, I can walk myself," she snapped, getting up and moving before the thug could grab her. He sputtered in place for a moment, and hurried to catch up with her.

* * *

Between Martin and Naoko, getting to the security room was not hard. They knew the blind spots for many of the cameras, and, though it took them longer than they would have hoped, they managed to make their way towards the security office. Everywhere, they passed frightened employees and concerned clusters of people. It was always the same…we don't know whats happening, we don't know where anyone is. Several times, they encountered blast doors blocking them from their routes, and had to take to maintenance corridors to continue on their way. They finally made it to one of the side passages leading to the main corridor that the security office sat on, but it had been a tense journey.

Martin peered gently around the corner, noting the camera and the empty hallway. "Well, now that we're here…how do we get _there_?" he mumbled. He heard a scratching behind him, and turned to study Naoko quizzically as she worked the blade of a multitool into one of the panels on the wall. With a light pop, it came loose, revealing a series of carefully tied wiring behind it. Such panels were all over the Center for quick maintenance access. It impressed upon Martin that the Center was not so much a building as it was a machine that people happened to occupy. Naoko began sorting through the cables, and, upon finding the one she wanted, retrieved a data tool from one of her coat pockets. "I'm guessing you have a plan," Martin said dryly.

"This is one of the security channel's wires," Naoko explained, handling a large black cable that looked like a hose, "For the CCTV network. I'll click into it, find the feeds for the camera's outside the security office, and give them a looped feedback of an image showing the hallway as empty."

"Can you do that from here?" Martin asked, and Naoko gave him a withering look. Martin shrugged sheepishly, and continued to watch. "So…once you apply a feedback, what's next?"

"It'll give us time to get close and figure out how to access the security room, and deal with the guards inside," she said, retrieving a wire with clamps to tap into the wire.

"Could you access the security door from here?" he asked.

"Well…yeah. That would be…" she glanced over the wires, and tugged at a bundle of red ones. "It'd be one of these."

"Once you get the loop going, please find that next," he asked. She gave him a curious look, but then went back to work. There was a brief silence, before Martin said snidely, "You know, that's kind of a cliched plan." Naoko hissed at him through her teeth, and he chortled lightly, leaning back against the wall.

* * *

Inside the security office, the three infiltrators watched the antics of the response beyond the outer markers. They made note of any potentially suspicious movements, but were for the most part satisfied. The security drones seemed content to stay at the edge and do nothing.

There was a flicker from three of the smaller security monitors, screens that were permanently tied to cameras of special importance. "What was that?" one of them asked. The one nearest glanced up, and studied the images. They were of the outer hallway.

"Looks like nothing," he replied, "They're all on the same feed. It was probably just a short in the system."

* * *

It wasn't long before Naoko had separated the proper door wire from its fellows, and tapped into the circuit. She flicked through various menus until she found the door controls she sought, and leaned her head around the corner.

Martin stood in the hallway, at the entrance to the security corridor. He was leaning forward, eyes intent on the door ahead. She toggled the command to open the door, and Martin sprinted down the hall and out of sight. She quickly unlatched her tool, and replaced the panel on the wall. She heard the noise of a violent scuffle coming from down the hall, and hurried towards the security corridor.

Naoko rounded the corner to see Martin crouched over something, his shoulders working in rhythm. One of his arms rose briefly, and the whole of his body came down with a sickening crunch. She flinched, and continued to watch as he rolled a man's body out of the way. He turned, saw her, and motioned her forward. There was blood on his hands.

It shouldn't have surprised her…Martin was, after all, a close combat instructor for the security detachment. It was unnerving, however, to see someone, especially someone you know, be so…destructive. Slower than she meant to, she made her way down the corridor. Entering the security office, she took note of the small clump of bodies in the corner. All of them wore security uniforms.

"Are they…?" she asked, nervously.

"All dead," he said. "Two of them were already here, and I handled the rest."

"That one's still breathing," she mumbled, pointing to one. "Should we…?"

"No, he's dead," Martin said, "His body just hasn't realized it yet, is all." Sure enough, the breathing became shallow, ragged, and ended in a noisy gurgle. Naoko stared at the bodies for a second more before Martin snapped, "Naoko!" She glanced at him, and realized she had been convulsively rubbing her palms together in a fit of nerves. "The panel."

"…Right." She turned away from the pile, and slid into one of the chairs. She scanned the monitors in front of her, then began typing on the keyboard in front of her, drawing up a series of command prompts. "Hmm…" she mumbled. "Sloppy. Real sloppy. That's good for us." She glanced up at Martin, who now stood over her shoulder. "This is really basic stuff. These guys were no geniuses, left no way to lock anyone else out if they should get in."

"So we're in control?"

"We're in control," she said, smiling. "Let's see what damage we can do."


	23. Belly of the Beast

Yui sat across from the leader in a small metal chair. The head terrorist was studying something on a data pad in front of him. Next to her was an almost bored man holding a rifle, watching her with a deceptively lazy eye. Someone entered, another masked man in body armor.

"Boss," the newcomer said, "We've cleaned out everything, packaged it. We're moving it down the main lift now."

"Good. At least we have something if we can't find the targets," the leader said, looking up from his pad.

The newcomer regarded Yui. "I'm guessing that's what she's for, hmm? Where'd you find her?"

"She was with the hostages," the leader said in a voice that dripped marvel. Yui glanced back and forth, feeling there was something she was supposed to understand but failing to. The leader looked at her, and then back to the newcomer. "Dr. Ikari," he said, standing up and circling the room, "We're about ready to leave, leave you and your fellows safe and sound, but before we do, we need just one small thing to take care of." He turned to her. "We're wondering where little miss blue is. Where is she?"

Yui felt cold. The whole question had been so casual, it took her a moment to process who he was talking about. "I'm sorry, but are you asking me for the location of my _daughter_?"

"Or a copy. Just a spare one you happen to have lying around, you know. I mean, you have, what…ten?" He turned to one of the other terrorists.

"Ten," the man confirmed.

"Ten little blue bells running around. Surely you can spare one."

Yui stared at him. The cold feeling had become a dull ache, one that spoke in languages of fear and hate in equal measure. "You…want…my daughters?" she said coldly.

"Ah, miss," he said, sympathetically, "Not all of them. Just one. Whichever one you can stand to part with." Her fingers trembled. She said nothing. There was nothing to say…she was at such a fevered pitch of rage that she couldn't find the words. The leader leaned back and said, "Just think on that for a bit. If you need a little motivation, just let me know, and I'll bring in whichever one of your coworkers suit you and we'll go to work on them. We have plenty to spare."

"Plenty of time, too," one of the other terrorists said. "Plenty of tools. It's amazing what you can do with a belt buckle, or an electrical outlet."

"We don't even have to get that creative," the leader said, "We can just bring you their head. How about the basket case? Probably do her a favor, that way, right?" Yui was trembling, her eyes straight ahead and her face locked in a mask of hate. "If that doesn't work, we have other options, too. Are you left handed or right handed? I mean…which would you prefer to keep." She closed her eyes, and still she said nothing. "You think about that. We'll talk again in a bit." The leader left her alone with the guard and her fears.

* * *

The tech team was readied to be dispatched when Aramaki's cell phone buzzed. He checked it, and saw that he had just received an email on his government line. It was a public account, so one that he rarely checked, but in an emergency, one should never ignore the ways one can be contacted. He opened the email and blinked in surprise.

SAW YOU ON THE SECURITY MONITOR. KNOW YOU FROM YOUR VISIT TO GENDO IKARI. WE HAVE SECURED THE CENTRAL SECURITY OFFICE. In the byline was a phone number. "Tell the infiltration team to hold on!" he snapped, and quickly tapped the number with his thumb. The phone auto-dialed, and he waited to see who would answer.

The line was picked up, and a voice called, "Is this Daisuke Aramaki?" the male voice said.

"You have the man," he said in a no-nonsense tone. "Who the hell is this?"

"This is Martin Langley, Nerv Security," came the reply, "I'm here with Dr. Naoko Akagi. She's retaken control of MAGI, and we'd like to know what you need from us."

Aramaki blinked in surprise, then smiled. "Well, this highly unexpected and gratifying news. Perhaps you have a way for us to tap into the security camera network inside the building?"

"Of course. Where…hang on a second." Aramaki glanced at the phone in surprise, when one of the technicians in the CP began cursing. Aramaki glanced at him. The man's monitor was now displaying a feed from a security camera inside the Center.

"Leave that alone!" he snapped, before the man could start fiddling with it.

"Sorry, Mr. Aramaki, Dr. Akagi is an impatient person," Martin explained.

"How did she find our security net so quickly?" Aramaki asked curiously.

"Sir, Dr. Akagi designed a supercomputer so advanced that she had to design new hardware just to house it. Let's not get into the network hubs that she built to allow it to think," Martin explained.

"Fair enough," Aramaki said, not at all fazed, "You speak as a man who's been properly chastised."

"Wouldn't you know it?" Martin said dryly. "We're sending you a feed now of the room where the hostages are being kept."

Kusangi hurried into the CP as Aramaki studied the screen. "Why'd you pull us back?" she asked in concern, then caught sight of the monitor. "Is this from inside the Center? How are we getting this?"

"Look at those packages," Aramaki said, pointing to a square on the edge of the small group of people. "Are those the explosive devices?"

"Probably," she said, "They look simple. That'd make sense…easy to arm, easy to disarm, easy to transport. That doesn't look like the work of someone who's planning on dying, does it?"

"No," Aramaki agreed, "Mr. Langley, do you happen to have eyes on the cyborgs yet?"

"Cyborgs?" Martin asked in surprise.

"Yes, there seem to be a couple of full combat cyborgs in the facility. We've been trying to figure out how to avoid them."

Martin said something out of earshot, and added, "We'll get on it, see if we can find-"

"I see a problem," Kusanagi said. "There's supposed to be fifteen hostages. I see only fourteen." Aramaki glanced at her, then back at the monitor.

"Mr. Langley, could you have Dr. Akagi give us another angle on the infirmary?" Aramaki asked. The screen jumped, and he made a face. It was true…only fourteen hostages. That was not good.

"Mr. Aramaki, I'm only guessing at what you're noticing," Martin said, "But I can tell you that I do not see Dr. Yui Ikari, and the last time I heard about her, she was headed to the infirmary."

That was it; with that little piece of information in place, Aramaki began to connect the dots. If Kihl was involved (and frankly, Aramaki had no doubt that he was), and Ikari was missing, when there was every reason to suspect her among the hostages…

The children. The Rei children. They were trying to kidnap one or all of them. "Captain, organize your team and get ready to move in immediately. Can you disarm those explosives?"

"I have two EOD technicians with me. I could easily disarm those bombs from what I see: it will be easy pickings for them."

"Get them assembled. We'll keep a feed of the room going for them as you get closer. We have to move and soon, so be ready when I give the command."

"Roger," she said, and left with purpose.

"Mr. Langley, please inform me as soon as you have found the cyborgs," Aramaki requested, his mind racing.


	24. Bakelite

As Martin remained on the line with Aramaki, Naoko was surprised to feel her own phone vibrate. She glanced at it, and was surprised to see that it was Dr. Fuyutsuki. She answered it, and snapped, "Where the hell have you been?"

"I beg your pardon?" he replied, absolute shock coloring his voice.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm very nervous up here. I can't give you all the details, but we can't find Yui and there's combat cyborgs in the Center."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm not surprised either…strangely. I heard the gunfire and secured the girls in the Duck and Cover room."

"Thank God," she sighed, one thing off of her mind now. "Where are you now?"

"I moved to one of the utility offices. Easy to secure and easy to hide," he said. "Looks like the general plumbing and piping one."

"Good to know," she mumbled, suddenly coming across a strange image on her scanning monitors. There were five large, beastly things standing in one of the corridors, looking very much like gorillas. "Oh my God, are those combat cyborgs?"

Martin glanced over at her. "Yeah. Find anymore?"

"Not yet. Wait, is this how big they normally are?"

"Yeah," Martin replied, "That's pretty standard. What?" he turned back to the phone. "No, we've found five clustered in one hallway, we're looking for more."

Naoko did a quick assessment of the hallway in question. It was the main corridor leading in from the loading docks, which meant that it would have pressure plates to gauge the amount of weight coming in with each item loaded and offloaded. She brought up those tables, and was pleased to see that, as massively heavy each cyborg was, they were all roughly the same weight, give or take. She pulled up the general weight sensors for the whole of the Center, as every other hallway had the ubiquitous sensors for a variety of reasons. No where else were there similar objects putting off an equivalent weight.

"Tell him I can confirm those are the only five," she whispered to Martin. He relayed the information, and she asked, "Why are they all in that one hallway?"

"The loading dock is the hardest to secure, even from this office," Martin explained, "They'll be there as a front line." Naoko's mind was racing, looking at the corridor. The corridor from the main dock. A flash of intuition hit her.

"Kozo," she gasped, "Please tell me you the room your in is a control hub with a terminal!"

"Yes, it is. What's going on up there?" he implored.

"Never mind that. Please tell me what pipes are running through the main access corridor leading in from the loading docks. Do you know how to do that?"

"Hang on," he said, and there was an agonizing silence for a few minutes. "I'm looking at the list now," he said, "Um…coolant lines, helium, O2, basic plumbing, Bakelite pipes…"

"Bakelite! Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cheered, and Martin stared at her. "Martin, do combat cyborgs breathe?" she asked.

"They don't need to. They're brains are kept in oxygenated chambers," he said.

"Excellent," she said, "Tell Aramaki to send the entry team to the main entrance, we'll let them through the front door. Kozo, listen to what I want very carefully…"

* * *

Rocht was a patient fellow, but even then there was only so much standing around and doing nothing he could take. Jenner and Pol were telling each other dirty stories, Ip was bobbing his insect-like head to some song on his personal hard drive, and Kilo was just…standing there. Like always. He was about as excitable as a sloth and just as active.

Rocht checked his 30 mm rifle for what felt like the thousandth time, having little else to do. It was less of a rifle and more of a vehicular cannon designed to be used as a rifle. There were other weapons, of course. His massive frame had an ECM package built into it, polymer blades capable of opening an armored vehicle in a pinch laced through his limbs, and other, more insidious methods of dealing doom and disaster. It was what he, as a combat cyborg, was built for. Standing guard was just…so beneath him. He found himself hoping and praying the main hatch leading in from the loading dock would open, and give them something to shoot.

As he pondered this, the door in behind the cyborgs slammed shut. Rocht turned in confusion. "Hey, Security Office," he snapped on the line. "What giv-" There was a dull rumble from the ceiling. Jenner looked up.

"There's some sort of seismic stress building up there," he said, "One of the pipes seems to be…" There was a loud bang, and the ceiling panel collapsed under a cascade of pinkish goop. "The hell?!" Rocht snapped, watching a small wave of it wash over his feet. The corridor was not long, and it was shocking how much of the stuff had filled into it in the space of a few seconds.

"Where's the cutoff?" Ip snapped, as Pol began to work on opening the blast door with brute strength. Rocht left him to it, but knew it would do little. Even if all of them were to work on it, that door wouldn't open. The engines holding it closed and the material it was made of were meant for far worse than a combat mech. Jenner had risen to his full height, and was trying to clog the pipe with a fist, but it was a big pipe, and there was a frightening amount of pressure coming in.

There was a sudden burst further down the corridor. Apparently, a _second_ pipe had burst, and more of the pink stuff was coming out. It was now up to their knees, and Rocht realized that he was having trouble moving. It clicked in his head what this stuff was, then.

"This is liquid Bakelite!" he snapped. "Jenner, Ip, try and staunch those leaks. Boss, this Lookout One, come in." There was no response. "Boss, Lookout One calling, respond." He reached out with his more sensitive detection equipment, and was stunned to see he was in a dead zone. Someone was using the peripheral wiring in the corridor to create a field that rendered any attempts to communicate out nulled. It was devious, and the surest sign that things were going to pot very fast.

The Bakelite was now up to their waists and rising. Jenner had given up trying to clog the pipe, and was now trying to bend it closed, but he was moving too sluggishly. He was coated in the stuff, and it was hardening. "Rocht," he finally said, "My servos are jammed, I can't move." Ip had made it halfway to the other leak before he, too, was stuck. "Well," Kilo noted, his first words of the crisis, "This is unfortunate."

"Yes," Rocht muttered, "Yes, it is." At this point, the Bakelite was now up to his shoulders, and would be over his head before too long. He had no fear of dying, not even of boredom. When all was said and done, he could simply flood his brain case with relaxants and go to sleep. That didn't change the fact that he and his team were stuck, and all that was left was mercy at the hands of the Japanese judicial system. In the meantime, the outside security forces were probably getting ready to move in.

Whatever else happened, they were not part of it for the time being.

* * *

The Bakelite finally covered the camera, and Naoko clucked to herself in pleasure. "Well done, Kozo. We've got them trapped and but good!" she crowed. The main Bakelite line would have been fed from a reservoir that would have been underneath the loading dock for easy access. Though the main line led to the EVA docks, a second line of equal size ran back into the reservoir, constantly circulating the material to ensure it didn't harden in the pipes. Under her direction, Dr. Fuyutsuki was able to build up a catastrophic overflow in both pipes simultaneously, ensuring that they ruptured in total and flooded the area in question. It would cost them a lot of metric tons of Bakelite, but it was worth it.

"Excellent. I'm getting off this line for now," Fuyutsuki said, "Call back if you need anything else." Naoko smiled in satisfaction, and turned to Martin to see his look. Instead of a smile or any other response, he remained staring at his monitor. It was still locked on the infirmary.

"She doesn't look good, does she?" he asked. Naoko followed his gaze to the part of the screen Kyoko was on. She was lying very still, and Dr. Dhuwalia was next to her.

"She's probably resting," Naoko offered. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Yeah," Martin mumbled. "I'm sure it is." He stared at the screen, barely even hearing Aramaki inform him that the team was making its entry.


	25. The Manic Second

**Notes from GobHobblin:** Part of me is really irritated at the way my 'terrorists' behaved, simply because they make so many glaring mistakes. Failing to have repeat security checks via radio, for instance, or not setting up roving patrols with extra personnel. All things considered, though, they've already interrupted normal life at Nerv for too long in a story that's been making steady month to yearly plot progressions. I'm ready to be done with them, frankly, so please excuse some of the inconsistencies. I may come back and address them again some day to make the story more locked in, but I'm more interested in putting it down for consumption sooner rather than later. In the meantime (and justifying it to myself more than anyone else), I'm simply saying that a good deal of their errors are based in the speed with which they hoped to be in and out. And the fact that Strannix and his mooks may very well…possibly…be psychopaths, one could say they have slowly let long term contingency slide out of their SOP simply because they don't care.

* * *

Legally, the military was not supposed be on Nerv property. That was supposed to be Sarawa and his Response Teams. Given the bind he had found himself in, he simply handed it off to Aramaki as the representative of Public Security. He could argue that, given a clear lack of direction from his own superiors on how to proceed, he had done the next best thing and given precedence to the host country's security service. And, while the military could not access Nerv property, Public Security could…and it just so happened that Kubota and Aramaki had the paperwork seconding Capt. Kusanagi's team to the civilian security agency. Not that Kusanagi cared, overly. She was given the order to begin her entry, and the team did just that.

Bypassing the TO Bots was simple enough. They had no way of accounting for the range that the ThermOptic smocks covered, and failed to detect the twelve rapidly moving operators that had dropped from the main fence and proceeded at pace over the campus. They remained on the asphalt of the main roads that criss-crossed the grounds, in order not to disturb the grass and thus signal their position. Moving rapidly along the roadway, they were at the designated entrance in no time.

Under the directions of the newly-reclaimed Security Office, infiltrating the Center was easy. As large as it was, they had their route picked for them, with security doors open and free the entire way. In a very brief time, they reached the infirmary. They stacked up outside the entrance, keeping tabs of the explosives and the terrorists inside via surveillance footage beamed to their eyes.

The main infirmary door slid open, and the operators rushed in. All eyes had turned towards the door, but there was nothing to see, at least not immediately. If they had time to notice, the shimmer-shape of the cloaked individuals would have been evident. That was if they had the time, though.

It was called 'the manic second' in certain operator circles: to enter a room, mark your targets, and dispatch them with no friendly or collateral casualties in under a single second. It required intense training and coordination, and was not something that any team could pull off. The use of cyborgs in combat had reduced the time needed to facilitate that coordination, but it didn't eliminate the intense training necessary to make it second nature. The team under Kusanagi had been trained and honed to a fine, razor's edge.

When all was said and done, nine terrorists were dead before they knew what had happened. The team encircled the confused hostages, and dropped their camo. As they were cyborgs, there was no need to call who was up: their heartbeats were being monitored and transmitted to each of their squad mates.

"Everyone, into the corridor now," Kusanagi said briskly, watching as four of her team advanced on the door at the far end of the infirmary. Despite their shock, the hostages moved quickly, assisting in moving a catatonic woman on a stretcher. Her EOD specialists quickly scanned the devices, having a better view now than they did from the camera.

"How long will it take you to disarm those?" Kusangi asked.

One of them pulled a rod from the device, attached by a wire. Tugging the wire off, he said, "About that long, Captain." She smirked, glad to know she was right. The devices had no backup systems, booby-traps, or anti-tampering devices. That would have made them hazardous to the team watching and handling them, so they were as simple as they could be. A metric butt-load of high explosives with a remote device and a priming charge. Remove the charge, and you had a fancy paperweight.

"Get cracking, then," she said, and the two scurried around the other devices, pulling the explosive rods and the detonators. "Where are the rest?" she asked the Security Office via her radio.

"They went through the northern door in the infirmary," Martin called, "At least five to ten more, judging by previous footage."

"Can we get imagery there?" she asked.

"Negative…they seemed to have disabled all of our security devices in those halls. I imagine that's where Dr. Ikari has been taken," Martin mused.

"Got it. Everyone, we continue on. Advance carefully, there may be traps waiting for us," Kusanagi called, her cloak reactivating.

* * *

Yui continued to stare at the wall ahead, her hands firmly clasped in her lap. The leader had been gone for some minutes, and she was dreading the moment he would return. She didn't care for injury to herself…at least, she thought she didn't. All in all, however, she was more terrified of the prospect of being forced to choose between a co-worker and her daughters. She knew she couldn't surrender her daughters…so she was trying to accept that at least some of her friends were going to die. If these…'people' were to be taken seriously (and she had no reason not to), those deaths were going to be awful, and painful.

How had this happened? She still couldn't fathom how bad things had gotten. She had thought the worst thing she could experience since Arrival Day was the feelings she grappled with in the wake of Aomori. Even her brush with disaster in Unit-o1 had not dampened her spirits significantly. Now, Kyoko was hurt in ways they could not fathom, terrorists…no, _mercenaries_ were here looking for her children…she looked over at the guard, who gazed back dispassionately, a no-faced monster. How much could a person take? She sneered at him, and turned to look away, when…

Something had materialized in the small office's open doorway, something that shimmered. Fear left for a brief moment, as she focused on the strange sight. Was it a mirage, or a gas leak…?

The guard, seeing her confusion, followed her gaze. His head blossomed, spraying blood and tissue across the wall behind him. Yui screamed reflexively, falling out of the chair and sliding backwards, away from the collapsing body. He fell back against the crimson wall, collapsing into a nerveless heap. His body shuddered for a few moments, before resigning itself to a slow, rhythmic twitch as his body followed his brain in death.

The haze took solid form, a soldier in body armor. She recognized the symbol on the shoulder closest to her: a white flag with a red circle. "We've found Dr. Ikari," he said, keeping his weapon aimed at the body as another soldier materialized behind him, pushing into the room and letting his weapon hang free.

"Doctor, we're with the military. Are you hurt?" Yui stared at him, trying to find words, but could only manage to shrug and shake her head.

Someone in the hall, a woman, said, "Stay with her, the rest, with me." The soldier that had spoken to her knelt over her, one hand extended to help her up while he studied her with a critical eye, looking for injuries.

With the danger gone, something animal and ancient awoke in Yui's brain. It was more than she could bear, and she clutched at the soldier kneeling over her, her eyes pleading. "My daughters!" she gasped, gripping the man's arms with steely fingers. "I have to see my daughters!"

* * *

Strannix was in the guts of the Center, overseeing the last load of research materials onto the purloined truck, when Daulmer broke the bad news.

"Strannix, I can't pull up the infirmary team. I then tried the cyborgs, the Security Office…we've got nothing," he said. Strannix nodded, and pulled the detonator from a pouch, armed, and activated it.

Nothing. No boom, no rumble. He clicked the detonator again. The size of the Center meant nothing: even in these vast caverns, they should have heard something. "You see that?" he said peevishly, throwing the detonator against a wall. "That is annoying."

"We should have boobytrapped those explosives," Pitt muttered.

"Should have, would have, could of. Load up, we're bugging out," he snapped, hopping into one of the trucks passenger cabins. They had three, large vehicles meant for traversing the great, Stygian caverns beneath the Center for purposes of construction and maintenance. They could have taken everyone in them, and now were seriously undermanned. Still, it would work out in the end.

True, they didn't have one of the brats, but they had enough to make a profit. And Strannix had one last trick up his sleeve…

* * *

"We have a problem," the voice crackled over the CPs main speakers.

"What is it, Captain?" Aramaki asked.

"We've followed the likely trail of the retreating terrorists down into the maintenance section, but there's a tunnel entrance here that's not in the schematics," she replied.

"That can't be right," Sawara murmured. "We handed over every set of blueprints we had."

"Captain, which direction do the tunnels lead?" Aramaki asked, concerned.

"Straight north," she replied, and Sarawa's face took an alarmed expression.

"There's no tunnels north!" he said aloud, unable to contain his shock. "We have two main drainage tunnels heading south and east towards the Bay. Nothing should

"That's why," Kubota murmured, studying the main monitor intently. It displayed an eyeball's view of what the Captain was seeing. "Captain, please focus on the corner there, where the main corridor and the northern one meet." She did, and they all saw it.

The corridor had been sealed off with a movable panel, which had now slid into a wall. "You mean there's been another passage under the Center this whole time and we _didn't even know about it_?" Sarawa said incredulously. Aramaki crossed his arms, allowing Sarawa to vent his frustrations. When the man quited down for a bit, he turned to him.

"All the hostages are uninjured, though…correct?"

"All except one," Kubota said. "It looks like Dr. Soryu was struck. She already had suffered an injury from a test earlier today."

"I see," Aramaki said. Sarawa forced himself to accept that, and nodded. He had the look of a man with murder on his mind, though. "Captain," he continued, "Advance through the tunnels and see where it comes out. Kubota, please see if one of your helicopters can follow the Captain's tracer signal."

"And be ready for survey over where she exits," Kubota said, a step ahead of his friend and already issuing orders. Aramaki

What was the point of this exercise? Was it simply to build Kihl's power base? He furrowed his brow. Those were answers that would be found in the followup investigation. For now, he stood and listened to the CP buzz with activity.


	26. Zugzwang

**July 19, 2024 - Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3, Japan**

"So it was completely legitimate?" Aramaki asked, shaking his head. In the month following the attack on the Center, the Evangelion Center had become a virtual fortress. NERV Security the world over had received a serious upgrade, and many of the holes that had first existed were being eliminated. Now, some of the last puzzle-pieces were being sorted, and a few would be found in this room. Gendo Ikari had been eager to meet with Aramaki for the purpose of putting them in place, but both had been consumed with new responsibilities the crisis had heaped on them. Aramaki had gotten a bit grayer in that month, but looked no worse for the wear. He enjoyed the work.

Gendo, it seemed, had gotten a bit colder.

"Completely legitimate," Gendo said, his fingers steepled in front of his face. "It's part of a series of tunnels we hope to use as transportation tunnels in time. It wasn't on the original blueprints, however, because it was a classified secret. Even the Security department didn't know about it.

"What surprises me is the mercenaries not only knew about it, but had the ability to open that panel." He closed his eyes, seeming to drift for a moment. "The panels are keyed on multi-numeral locks that auto-adjust every three days for security purposes. Either they had an excellent code breaker with them…or they knew the lock combinations."

"I take it those tunnels would be for the Evangelion devices, whenever those are made," Aramaki mused, and Gendo nodded. "Hmm. Too bad your inner circle was unable to inform us in time, but that's hardly your fault. The construction firms that handed over their schematics should have been less discreet."

"Blame Gehirn. They financed it, so they knew about it as well. They were the ones that insisted on the secrecy," Gendo admitted.

"I'm prepared to blame them for a lot of things, right now," Aramaki stated. He leaned back in his chair and perused Gendo's office. It was a new one, a converted conference room with a table right at the center. The larger space made Gendo uncomfortable, but it was also a security measure that his detail insisted on for the time being. It had the added affect of being very imposing on any one entering the room. Given Gendo's normally severe attitude, it was a poor match for someone who was trying hard to be a more accessible supervisor.

"Well, if there's one good thing to come out of it, it will be Section 9," he said, ending the brief silence.

"That sounds like something I shouldn't know about," Gendo said.

"You may as well. The military did a good job on this, but it made a lot of higher ups uncomfortable, so a military-style unit is being formed inside Public Security, with the intent to headhunt skilled cyborg operators from the military. We've already nabbed that Captain to head the team, and made her a Major to boot. For the records, we will be an anti-terrorist response unit. Off the books…we're going to make life very hard for Gehirn."

"Good." There was no emotion to the word, but something in the flatness of it made Aramaki take note.

"There seems to be some vehemence in you," Aramaki ventured, but for a long moment, Gendo said nothing. They stared at each other in silence, Aramaki having ventured his question, and Gendo considering his answer.

"I found Yui in the closet, yesterday," Gendo finally said, his voice distant. "She hadn't shown up for work, and wasn't answering her phone. I drove home with a security detachment to find her. She was…getting ready for work when she smelled something. She can't remember what, just that it was a smell. She thought those men were in the house looking for her, and she hid in the closet."

"The flashbacks," Aramaki said, "Hmm…that's common. Sometimes it's just a color, or the way someone says a word, and it leads to fits. Maybe a cold sweat, maybe a sense of paranoia. I trust you intend to get her counseling?"

"Of course," Gendo replied quietly.

"I'll send you the names of some who are the best in the business," he offered, "When you've worked in public security as long as me, you get to know folks."

"That would be most appreciated," the scientist said.

Aramaki nodded, and said, "You blame them for that."

Gendo's expression never changed, but his eyes seemed to hollow in a way that caught Aramaki by surprise. "They threatened the lives of my daughters. They set back research that would have seen them free of their tank. They traumatized my wife. And they…hurt a dear friend of mine." He lay his hands on the table, and his tone was cold. "I will burn them for this. I will find whatever soul they have and burn it from their very husks."

"We're still trying to account for one, and it is an employee that greatly concerns me."

"How so?" Aramaki asked.

"She was a research assistant, a Canadian named Riley May. She assisted in the lab that handles Lilith's remains."

Aramaki's eyes widened. He realized they had been played. Played brilliantly, at that. It made sense, of course, to target the girls. They were not exactly secrets, and in the scientific community, Yui had been pleased enough to present them in degrees. Pleased as a mother and pleased as a biologist. With the obvious interest Kihl had in their secrets, it was only logical that they would be the focus of his move.

And it was obvious that this was how he intended to do it, because it was so public. If they had grabbed Rei at any other time, suspicion would have immediately fallen on Kihl, and the powers that be would have insisted something be done. This way, however, there was enough of a mess and brouhaha over what had happened that who did what was so vague, if one of the girls…or, for that matter, all of the research associated with them…vanished, it would take years to sort everything out.

Who would miss a little piece of Lilith in all of that?

"So…" Aramaki said, sighing, "Kihl has the research and samples the girls have provided, as well as a small piece of Lilith. And no way to trace it back to him. We _know_ he did it, but us knowing it and the rest of the world are two separate things, are they not?"

"I suspect that the thugs he hired didn't even know about Lilith," Gendo mused.

"I guess I have to call that bastard a magician, then," Aramaki said, standing. Gendo cocked his head, and Aramaki waved him off. "Something I had told myself a long time ago. Thank you for taking the time to meet, Director Ikari."

"Always a pleasure. Please come and see us again in the future," Gendo offered, standing and shaking hands with Aramaki. The Public Security man left, and Gendo looked down at his desk. He touched a com on his desk and called up the head of his new detail. "Vaas?"

"Yes, Director?" the Afrikaaner replied.

"I have an errand to run to the Sakura Clinic. Please ready a vehicle."

"It'll be ready in five minutes, sir," Vaas replied. Gendo thanked him, and turned in place, staring at the vast and empty place. It made him feel alone, and old. He would hate it if this was how his workspace would have to remain…empty and oppressive. He shivered, and headed towards the door.

* * *

Gendo checked in with Martin. It was the last day of his time off, and he was brushing Kyoko's hair. She was sitting upright, prim and polite. But silent. Still silent.

"Hello, Martin. Hello, Kyoko," he said gently. Martin turned and nodded, a smile on his face. Kyoko turned, looking at Gendo, then past him.

"Hello, Gendo," Martin said. "Kyoko, it's Gendo. Remember Gendo?" He patted her shoulder gently, and she looked at him in confusion. She glanced back at Gendo, seemed to be ready to say something…then shook her head and mumbled, dropping her eyes to the floor.

"That's okay," Martin said, "That's fine. We'll try again later, okay?" Kyoko's brow furrowed hard in thought, and she blinked a few times

"Have a moment to talk, Martin?" Gendo asked. Marting nodded, and stood up. Kyoko became agitated at that.

"I'm just going into the hall, love," he said, "I'll be right back." She muttered, her expression one of anxious concern, then her eyes closed and she fluttered her hand, as if waving away errant thoughts and concerns. She began to nibble on the tip of her thumb as Martin joined Gendo at the door.

"Has she gotten any better?" Gendo asked. Marting shrugged.

"No more word salad, if that's what you mean," he replied, "Now, though…she doesn't talk at all. She just stares at things. If she wants something, she starts to mumble, grunt…she can't seem to sort out what she's saying."

"Have you brought…Asuka to visit?" Gendo asked in a quieter tone.

"Once. It was promising, but it scared Asuka." Gendo cocked his head, and Martin explained. "Kyoko seemed to recognize her, and got excited. Asuka hadn't seen her like that, yet…so…" he seemed to be lost for a moment. "We've been going over pictures. In a few days or so…I think I'll be more comfortable to bring her to visit." Gendo nodded, and glanced back at Kyoko. She was gazing quietly out of the window, still and serene.

"If you need anything…" Gendo began, and Martin shook his head.

"Thanks," he said, "But take care of your own family first. You've had a nasty scare yourself."

"That goes without saying," Gendo said, "Just…don't ignore the offer, okay? Leave Asuka whenever you need to." Martin began to say something else, then though the better of it and nodded. He turned, and went back to his wife. Gendo watched them for a brief moment, and then turned and walked over to Vaas. The short, stocky blond man gazed up at Gendo. "We're not going back to the Center," he said, "I'll finish my work from home." Vaas said nothing, but nodded. He took up step behind the Director as he left the Clinic with thoughts of his family in mind.


	27. Deliver Us

October 13, 2024 - Ikari Residence, Tokyo-3

"Almonds," Yui mumbled to herself, scribbling the word on a notepad. She thought for a few more moments, feeling a cool, sweat feeling on her neck. "Ammonia." She nodded, and scribbled that word down, as well. Naoko peeked over her shoulder, sliding a cup of coffee next to her.

"Fifteen triggers, so far," Naoko said. "That's progress."

"Fifteen that I know of," Yui said, scrutinizing the list and reaching for the coffee without looking at it.

"Why almonds?" Naoko asked.

"Just…the smell. Something about the smell. I think someone was eating roasted almonds that day," Yui said dismissively, sipping from the cup. Naoko sat down across from her, and glanced into the living room. The three children were doing their first grade homework together, using touch-pads. Asuka seemed exceedingly disinterested in what she was doing, and Naoko made a mental note to tell Martin to get her to a counselor. Kyoko's condition was slowly improving, but not sufficiently to comfort Martin or his daughter. And, even though his hours had been cut and Kyoko moved to a hospice for better care, Martin still spent a great deal of time with her. It wasn't meant to be to the detriment of his daughter, but Asuka wouldn't be able to understand that.

"So," Naoko said, mentally shaking herself. "You just…what, take these triggers and reassociate them?"

"It's worked on a few since I started this method," Yui said, pointing to three on the list that had already been crossed out. "Triggers are just associative factors that bring back memories. It's especially prevalent for me as a woman, because our neurological wiring is so much more interconnected then men's brains. It's what gives us a more rapid recall of things. The trick is establishing new paths and new information for the triggers. So, instead of thinking about…_that_ stuff when I smell almonds, I think about Gendo cooking dinner."

"Is it hard?" Naoko asked.

"I grew a two-hundred foot tall human that can kill things with its brain. You think I can't handle this?" Yui snarked.

Naoko shrugged, and responded tartly, "I heard Gendo found you under the bed yesterday morning." Yui's eyes widened, and her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before she sputtered in resignation.

"Someone sleeps on the couch tonight," she hissed.

"I…just made that up. Wait, did you _really_ hide under the bed yesterday?" Naoko perked up, and Yui began to massage her temples.

"Yes, this is hard," she snapped, exasperated. Three pairs of little eyes turned towards the kitchen at her minor outburst, and Naoko turned and waved a dismissive hand in their direction. Slowly, they returned to their homework. "It's hard," Yui said more quietly. "It's…little steps, all over the place. Some days I could take on the world and…others…" She scribbled a fingernail across the tabletop. "I see…blood on the walls." Naoko nodded.

There was a slight silence, and Naoko leaned forward. "I saw Martin kill a man with his hands," she said quietly. Yui looked up, surprised, and Naoko continued. "At the time, it was nothing I really thought of. I was so focused on helping the rescue team, I didn't think of it. After that…I couldn't look at him. It scared me."

"Oh, God," Yui said. Naoko hadn't told her that. She knew he had been a soldier, but picturing the stern but gentle Martin murdering someone barehanded seemed…unreal.

"It didn't…you know, send me running for the hills or anything. It still makes me look at him funny. Not as much…I'm messing this up." She shook her head, smiled, and said, "The point is, I'm just trying to say I sympathize. I don't 'know what you mean' when you talk about this stuff, but…"

Yui nodded, and Naoko trailed off. The point had been made. Yui looked at the children, still fiddling with their pads. "Unit-00," she finally said.

"Yes," Naoko said, folding her hands on the table. It felt wrong to talk about the Evangelion Units without Kyoko, but it had to be done. They had avoided it for awhile, focusing instead on Unit-o1, and trying to bring Unit-02 up to speed. Kyoko's attempt at synchronization, though disastrous for her, had woken the Unit up slightly, and it had some life in it. It was finicky, however. For lack of a better term, it was rebellious. A lot of work had gone into trying to 'soothe' it, but they had put Unit-00 on the back-burner for their troubles.

"We can't risk another synch experiment," Yui said bluntly, "But we need it up and working. And we can't do that until it has a soul."

"Stop using that word," Naoko said.

"Okay, give me a better term," Yui asked defiantly.

Naoko opened her mouth, closed it, seemed to grasp at the air for a bit, and said, "Self-sustaining consciousness for purposes of…"

"Sooouull. Say it with me," Yui intoned. Naoko made a face, and began shaking her head. "Sooullll," Yui crooned.

"I…will…not…say…" Naoko emphasized each word, refusing to use what she considered a very unscientific piece of jargon for something that she had always considered nothing more than a neurological collection of electrical impulses.

"Sssssssssoooo…." Yui said again, in a deep voice.

"All right, soul, stop that," Naoko snapped. Yui smiled fiendishly, and Naoko plowed on, refusing to acknowledge the admission. "We could simulate contact."

"How would we do that?" Yui asked.

"I have a theory that we could just…hardwire something into it. You know…jumps start the electrical impulses. Look," she leaned forward, excited. "We have the data from your test and from…" her lips clamped shut, and she worked her way around to it, "Kyoko's test. That's good data. We can use that data to find the resonance, the waves, everything that is currently inside Unit-01 and, to an extent, 02. We replicate it."

"How do we do that without a human subject to make contact?" Yui asked.

"I don't know," Naoko admitted. She looked over at the kids, pondering it, watching each of them. Asuka was still dallying with her pad, Shinji seemed active if not interested, and Rei was her usual prim and proper self.

Rei. Naoko blinked, sitting up. Rei…

"The mermaids," she said, turning in shock.

Yui squinted. "Pardon?"

"Look, think of this…you have ten daughters made from your DNA and Lilith's, right? You would argue that they have 'souls,' right?"

"…yeeesss," Yui said suspiciously.

"Why? Why do they have souls, and not the EVAs?"

Yui tugged at her earlobe, pondering it. "I hadn't thought of it. I just kept seeing the EVAs as weapons, so…"

"You said it yourself," Naoko insisted, "A two hundred foot tall human. But that's getting off track. What if…" she scooted around the table so she could lean closer to Yui, the hint of conspiracy behind her words. "What if…there is something in the girls' cells that can help us craft a soul for Unit-00 _without_ the need for contact?"

The silence that followed that was palpable. Yui didn't even know how to address the science of that…and frankly, the idea of involving her girls in that made the slow sweat feeling start. Yet…she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't the slightest bit tempted by the prospect. The need for more weapons against the Others, combined with a way to build those weapons that _wouldn't_ put more people at risk was far too tempting.

"No…" she found herself saying. "No…no…" She slid her notepad across the table, and shook her head, suddenly tired.

"Yui, you know I don't want to hurt the girls…"

"I know, I know…I just…I can't think about that tonight," she said, standing up and walking into the living room. Naoko decided not to press the issue. She would float the idea to Fuyutsuki, and the two of them (and MAGI) would try and cook up a better projection. Data was what Yui needed now, not theories.

"What are we doing tonight?" Yui asked, leaning over the kids.

"Math," Shinji mumbled.

"Vocabulary," Rei said happily.

"Nothing," Asuka moped.

"And how are we liking it?" Yui dared ask.

"It stinks," Shinji moaned.

"I like it!" Rei chirped. Asuka shrugged indifferently.

"When's dad getting home?" Shinji asked, sitting up. Asuka gave him a look that Yui couldn't read, and went back to doing nothing in particular.

"After you all go to bed. He has to be busier these days, after…" She caught herself, and searched for the appropriate words. "After what happened a few months ago."

"I never see him," Shinji said, his voice petulant. Rei looked up, slightly concerned. Yui suspected that, while Rei was naturally cheerful when doing schoolwork, she had been working extra hard to be extra cheerful. She knew that Mommy was off, that Shinji was cranky, and that Asuka was not all Asuka. Meanwhile, Daddy had become a stranger. With Shinji becoming outwardly cranky, Rei seemed to have a look of mounting panic.

Yui sat down next to her and nuzzled her head, and the girl leaned into her. "I know, I miss him, too. Want to give him a call?"

"Yes!" Shinji said brightly. Yui turned on the television, and selected the phone option from the menu. She clicked on her husband's work number, and the dial icon came up. After a few seconds, it clicked over to the camera in Gendo's computer.

"I see kids," he said, leaning over the icon. He was still in his full Nerv uniform, and somehow did not look as haggard or worn as Yui thought he would be. How he did it, she would never know.

"Hi, dad!" Shinji said, standing up.

"Hi, daddy!" Rei said right on his tail, claiming a spot next to him. Yui walked over and sat next to Asuka. The girl looked at her wordlessly, almost pleadingly.

"I hope you all are working on your homework and not giving your mom a hard time?" he said in his stern voice.

"We're working very hard," Rei said, always eager to please. Yui watched them chatter back and forth a bit, and she nudged Asuka.

"Want to talk to Director Ikari?" she asked.

Asuka shrugged. "He's not my daddy," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. The words hit Yui in a strange way, and she found herself feeling heartsick.

"He might still want to say hi," Yui offered. Asuka shrugged indifferently, but didn't say no. She plopped to her feet, and moved into range of the pickup.

"Oh, hello, Asuka!" Gendo said. "I spoke to your daddy today." She perked up, and looked intently at the television. "He said he wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow, and wanted me to tell you if I saw you first."

"With mommy?" she asked.

"Not yet," Gendo said gently. She deflated slightly, and Gendo said. "I'm sorry, Asuka. She still feels sick." Asuka nodded, and plodded back to her chair. If Gendo was perturbed by it, he didn't show it. "All right, kids, I need to talk to your mommy for a moment, so, I love you both and I'll kiss you each when I get home."

"I'll stay up until you get home," Shinji offered.

"Ah. Nice try. No." Gendo said.

"But…"

"You go to bed or I'll make Vaas kiss you." Shinji snapped his mouth shut. Yui could have sword she heard a scoff from off screen on Gendo's end, but it was too faint to make out.

"Give me a moment to get to the kitchen," she said, leaving the living room and raising an eyebrow at Naoko. "Watch the kids," she mouthed, and Naoko nodded. Yui turned on the flatscreen over the island, and selected the phone option. The television in the living room automatically turned off, and the signal transferred over. "How many more late nights?" she asked.

"Quite a few. It looks like things are going to get more hectic, not less," Gendo sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"Nerv and Gehirn are pretty much at each others throats, and I've become the ringleader of one faction." He gave her a 'hooray for me' smile that looked anything but joyful.

"You sound so thrilled," she replied.

"Don't get me wrong…anything we can do to remove ourselves from Kihl's influence is only a good thing. I was hoping to position people better qualified than myself to handle it, though," he said tiredly.

"And who's better qualified than you?" she said with a tired smile.

"Exactly. Considering our center suffered the most under Gehirn's policies, I've become the primary spokesperson for why we need more operational independence." He leaned back, very tired. "That brings up worse issues than late nights, though."

Yui felt herself deflate. "You mean that Gehirn will be more aggressive in sidelining you."

Gendo nodded. "What concerns me is how Kihl will respond. We know that he was behind the attack on the Center, even if we can't prove it. We _suspect_ that he's killed scores of people in Europe to cement his power base there. What will he do with an active threat to his power in this program?"

"He would…doom us to extinction for his power base," Yui grated.

"In the very least, we have to consider taking actions…that we may find disagreeable," Gendo ventured.

Something about the note in his voice made Yui take warning. "Disagreeable?"

"Yui, it's possible that we are putting our children at threat by going this course. The closer they are to us, the more danger they will be in." The silence that arose was a palpable, physical thing.

"I don't like what you're suggesting, Gendo," she said coldly.

"I don't like it, either," he said. "The fact is that if Kihl was willing to do what he did, what will he not be willing to do?"

"Sending our kids away?" Yui asked, incredulous.

"No," Gendo said, looking down at his hands. "Just Shinji." Yui's jaw muscles worked convulsively, and she tried to form words but couldn't. Gendo tried to explain it as gently as he could. "Yui, I would send _both_ of them away if I could, because they deserve to have a normal childhood. I want to give them that, and I know you do, too, but how can we? And if Kihl is trying to target me…" he sighed. "We have to make it harder for him. We can make Shinji a non-factor in it, at the very least."

"Why not send both away?" she said bitterly.

"Because Rei can't live a normal life however hard we want her to," he said simply. "And if we want the rest of our daughters to enjoy what she has, she needs to be near enough to help them."

Yui shook her head, refusing to accept it. "How can he be _safer_ when he's further away from us? We have a small army protecting us here!"

"Your old friend David Sarif offered his security division to assist in that," he said. "It would take Shinji out of the Nerv database, and place him in very capable hands. Honey, I'm not saying we _abandon_ him…just…move him someplace where he can grow up a bit more levelly."

Yui shook her head. It was all she could do right now. "Yui, we will need to discuss this," Gendo implored.

"That's the end of the discussion," she snapped, and disconnected the feed before he could say anymore.


	28. Dinner For Two

**October 14, 2024 - Eiger Haus, Tokyo-3**

The Eiger Haus was a small, German eatery that was owned by an Austrian couple who had immigrated to Japan as part of the massive boom that Tokyo-3 had created. It was a pleasant place, small and friendly, with good food and good murals showing beautiful scenes from the Alps. The centerpiece of these was, of course, a fantastic image of the Eiger itself. Though the couple was Austrian, the vibe was more Bavarian, and the cuisine covered a large range of Austrian and southern German cooking.

Martin was a fiend for blutwurst, and this was the only location in Tokyo-3 where he knew he could get good, German blood sausages. There was a signature dish here, where a disks of ground blutwurst were battered and deep-fried, then served with coleslaw and rolls. It was very unhealthy and ridiculously delicious, as far as Martin's palate was concerned. Asuka was much less adventurous, and stuck to the children's gnocchi platter. Technically, gnocchi was Italian, but it did appear in Bavarian cuisine, and it gave the owners a chance to justifiably diversify the menu a bit.

She wasn't eating it right now, of course. Instead, she stirred it with a fork, kicking her chair with her dangling heels. Martin was equally quiet, eating small, almost dainty portions. He watched his daughter intently, as her eyes remained focused on the uneaten meal.

"I hear you haven't been doing your school work," he said. She shrugged, and the stirring seemed to pick up in speed. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked. She gave no response this time, and the stirring stopped.

"I know you're having a tough time," he said. "I know that, and I'm sorry I haven't helped. When people get hurt or sick…they sometimes need a lot of attention." He began to stir his own food, his appetite disappearing. "I should be spending more time with you. And I will try to. You know I still love you, and your mother loves you, too."

He saw her blue eyes roll under her lashes, and he nibbled on his cheek. To say you loved someone was one thing, but words meant nothing to a child. It was actions which truly spoke, and his actions had been wanting. It didn't matter to Asuka that he had been swamped in differing responsibilities…she was a child. She wouldn't understand that. Couldn't, really. It was a lot to ask her to be patient and put up with it when adults had trouble dealing with similar issues. How could you ask someone to do the same thing when they didn't even have the tools to do so?

"Asuka," he insisted, not knowing what else to do at the moment, "I will be better about spending time with you while taking care of your mother."

"How long is mommy going to be sick?" Asuka asked. She finally looked up, her face serious. There was a hint of a whine to the question, but it was not a petulant tone. It was a desperate one.

Martin sighed, and responded, "I don't know. I want to say it won't be long…but it could be for the rest of her life." Asuka said nothing in response to that. She had nothing to say. Martin lay his fork down on his plate, trying to think of what to say next himself.

"Mäuschen," he finally said, gently. Asuka hung her head, and started crying. It was a quiet, but strong, loud snuffles and shuddering shoulders. Martin's mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, and he tried to work out what to do. On instinct, he looked around for aid, but there was none to be had. In a way, it was fortunate - they had a small but relatively private corner of the eatery to themselves, with no one to interfere or intrude upon their father-daughter meal. At the same time, it seemed to illustrate how isolated he and Asuka had become.

The 'daddy' part of him took charge at that moment, though, and he scooted out of his chair and came down on his knees next to Asuka's chair. Fat tears were dripping with abandon onto the napkin on her lap, and her nose ran. She didn't care. All the strain of the past few months had caught up, and that one word had broken her down. She was tired, she was sad, and she missed her parents, so she was going to have her cry and that was that.

"Mäuschen," he repeated, stroking her hair, "Things will get better. Your mother is doing much better…things will get better." She whimpered, her sobs threatening to take a louder tone. Martin sighed, and decided to say what he really didn't want to say.

"Perhaps…" He see-sawed, but knew he had been putting it off, "Perhaps you should visit with me, the next time I go to see your mother." The shuddering slowed, but the tears continued. "I know she would be very happy to see you," he said, "It would probably do her some good. Would you like that? To help with your mother?" It was an offer he didn't want to make, but knew he should. It would be good for the daughter and mother to bond again, especially if this would be Kyoko from here on. That didn't mean he _wanted_ Asuka to see her mother like this. If anything, he wanted to preserve the image of the vivacious woman she was before for as long as possible.

For a moment, she did nothing. Finally, with a loud snuffle, she wiped her face on her sleeve and nodded. "Yes," she croaked. "I want to help mommy."

Martin nodded, and kissed her on the forehead. "Let's bag the dinner and go home, okay?" he said, and she nodded numbly again.

He called the waiter over for some boxes and their check. When the young man returned, he came with a warm bag, as well. "From the owners," he said gently. Inside were a hefty amount of milk-cream strudels. Martin was hesitant, but thanked the waiter and accepted them. The German community was sizable in Tokyo-3 (benefit of Gehirn), but it was still small enough that news traveled fast when one of its members was affected.

The drive home was quiet, but Asuka picked the music. For the last few car rides they had shared, the radio had been off or on one of Martin's radio stations. Asuka picked one of her favorite albums, a nightcore album that had been her mother's. The little girl had always liked the sound and vibe of electronic music, mostly because her mother had. Martin was indifferent on it, either way. He was glad to hear it on the drive home, however. Asuka was still quiet, and sullen…but she had picked the music. That was a good sign.

By the time they got back to the house, she was asleep. She was exhausted from the cry, which, though brief, had been full, cleansing, and honest. Martin carried her into the house with the food. He took her to her room, and helped her out of her clothes and into her pajamas. She was half-awake for some of that, and clambered into her blankets without assistance from him.

Martin put away the leftovers, lay down on the couch, and slept there throughout the night. He still wasn't ready to go back to the double-bed.


	29. Behold The Woman

**December 13, 2024 - Anzen Hospice, Tokyo-3, Japan**

Anzen Hospice was one of the better health-care facilities in Japan, much less Tokyo-3. Expenses for it could be very difficult to a man raising a daughter and caring for a disabled wife, but Nerv had footed the whole of the expenses. Director Ikari had said it was a simple investment: Dr. Soryu was one of their most able and prolific researchers, a name in Nerv from the very beginning. Her husband was also something worth keeping around, considering without him, the rapid resolution of the Gold Army Incident would have been impossible. That was more for the balance sheets, though.

In truth, it was seeing friends in pain, and it was the least he could do to help.

For the most part, Kyoko made improvements. They were simple improvements, minor ones that seemed to emphasize how much was lost more than her earlier silence. It was progress, though, and that was not to be ignored.

The two biggest victories, in Martin's opinion, was her mobility and her vocabulary. It was hard to tell how cognitive Kyoko was of her surroundings most of the time, as she seemed lost in whatever otherworld she had slipped to when left to herself. When she saw someone she knew, though, she was quick to focus and lock on them. She could talk, a little bit, and was becoming more eager for company.

This combined with her ability to walk again, though slowly and with assistance. It was hard to tell if it was a balance issue or not, because she seemed to have no trouble with the dexterous movements required from her fingers. Whenever early attempts were made to compel her to walk, she stagged and lilted like a drunken person. Dr. Hosokawa figured this indicated it was most likely a psychosomatic condition, but encouraged continued rehabilitation treating it as a physical or neurological injury in recovery. On a slowly increasing regimen, Kyoto had managed to get her legs back under her, and had recently graduated from a walker to careful, plodding steps, with assistance close by. The speed with which she regained her movement further encouraged the psychosomatic theory.

There were still problems in recovery, and that was because, when one got down to it, no one knew what Kyoko was afflicted with. Physically, there seemed to be nothing wrong with her. There were no lesions on her brain, which would indicate the kind of cognitive deterioration she had suffered. Her nerves seemed responsive and fine. Aside from the blow she had received during the incident, and as terrifying as that had been, she seemed no worse for the wear.

Still, she made recovery. The Hospice was a good fit for her, and Martin had been able to return to work again, though his time was largely split between instructing Security personnel and caring for his wife, with very occasional father-daughter time thrown in. Sometimes, he even slept, time permitting.

He knew that Asuka was getting the raw end of the deal, but Kyoko's gradual improvements helped to alleviate that, a bit. Asuka was able to spend more time with her father and mother, and seemed to perk up in taking a role that helped her mother. It was progress on her part, too, for her grade's in school had dropped significantly. She had become quiet, sullen, and unresponsive to the adults around her, and had gotten into two fights. Her behavior improved as she spent time with her mother, and her mother was more happy and more responsive. Slow progress…but progress.

So the visits became a customary thing, today being one of many. Today was a special day, though. Asuka had brought an early Christmas gift for her mother.

"Asuka!" Kyoko chirped, making her slow and steady way down the hall.

"Hi, mommy," Asuka said quietly, giving one of her rare smiles.

"Asuka," Kyoko repeated, stopping in front of her child. "So pretty," she said, "So pretty." She enunciated each word very carefully,

"I brought Letta for you," Asuka said, offering up a doll. It was a doll that her mother had made for her after the old rag-doll had finally worn out. It showed a marked improvement in craftsmanship, and was clearly meant to emulate her daughter, with red chord for hair. Kyoko took it in wonder, looking at it. She seemed to go to a distant place, looking up and over the head of the doll and her daughter; the stuffed toy dropped to her side as she seemed to half-remember something. Presently, her eyes returned to her daughter, and she smiled again.

"So pretty," she said happily. She held out her free hand unsteadily, and Asuka accepted it. It was warm, and familiar. The skin was softer than it used to be, but it was still her mother's hand.

"Pudding?" Kyoko queried, tugging gently. "Today…pudding?"

"Okay, mommy," Asuka said, "Let's go eat some pudding."

"Window," Kyoko said seriously. Martin watched as his daughter gently led her mother back towards the cafeteria, feeling an ache and a warmth warring in his heart. Asuka had grown up very much in these past few months, and he was pleased how she had taken to her mother once the initial shock and sadness had warn off. It had been painful, initially, for Asuka to come to terms with her mother's new state, but there was no hiding how much Kyoko still loved her daughter. It hadn't been hard for them to reconnect.

"I'm pleased her daughter is having such an affect on her," Dr. Hokosawa said, breaking Martin from his brooding. She was a petite women with gray hair and crow's feet, but aside from that, looked remarkably young. "Sometimes, family members can be outright ignored in cases of dementia. Other times, they can just rile up the patient. Make them agitated."

"But you said this wasn't dementia," Martin reminded her, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I stand by that, but I've been using it as a template for treating Dr. Soryu," she explained. "I hate to say I don't know what to do, but in this case, I really don't. It's kind of a dartboard with her. Throw everything at her and see what works."

"It concerns me that you can't pin down the cause or the reason," Martin said wearily.

"It concerns me as well. I think we can both agree what the root cause was," Dr. Hokosawa said quietly. Martin nodded. If he could go back and put his foot down on that ugly day, he would have. Would have, should have, could have never solved anything, however, so he didn't dwell on it. There was no doubt in his mind that Eva-02 had done this to Kyoko.

Dr. Hokosawa suspected it, as well, but it was privileged information. Though the Evangelions were becoming public knowledge (out of the necessity to demonstrate active research conducted against the Other for morale purposes), the specifics of the 'devices' was still classified. Dr. Hokosawa had been a full-time physician under Nerv, and had been given space at the Hospice to assist in Kyoko's rehabilitation. There was no fear in discussing this.

"That thing just about killed her," he said, "And I can't help…thinking it took something out of her." He looked at the tiny woman, his face haggard. "What if…what if the parts of her that are…missing…what if they're in that thing? What if it just sucked it out of her?" Dr. Hokosawa listened dutifully, part of her job including counseling the family as well. It was something she had considered, but hesitated to bring to Martin's attention. She was uncertain how he would have taken the theory. As he had been the one to bring it up, however…

"Do you have reservations, then? About them trying to activate the Eva?" she asked, quietly.

Martin considered it, and in the end, it didn't matter if he did or not. It was easy to forget that a war for survival, a war against extinction, was being conducted in the lonely places of the world. The Evangelions might be the silver bullet to end that conflict.

"Casualty of war, Doctor," he mumbled, his voice distant. "It's…just a casualty of war."

* * *

They sat by Kyoko's favorite window, where she could see the hospice's garden and feel the sunlight. Today it was raining, but that mattered very little to Kyoko. It was all about the garden and butterscotch pudding.

"Napkin," she quietly, handing one to Asuka. The girl took it daintily, and laid it on her lap. They ate their pudding, and Asuka told her about Shinji, and Rei, and Yui, and Naoko, and everyone else. Kyoko listened attentively. About half of everything Asuka said went through, and the other half just flew over her head. For the most part, though, it wasn't about the words. It was just the sound of Asuka talking. The voice was something that connected in Kyoko's brain like music, and she was positively enraptured whenever her daughter said anything. She could be spouting gibberish, and it would still be gospel to her mother.

Presently, after they started their third bowl each, Asuka propped Letta on the table. "I want you to keep Letta here, so you can get better," Asuka explained.

"Pretty," Kyoko said again, glancing at the doll.

"You made her for me. Remember, mommy? You made Letta," Asuka reminded. Kyoko seemed to get shy at that suggestion, and smiled. She shook her head bashfully, denying it. Asuka made a serious expression. "It's true," she insisted. "You made her. You were very good at that. You could make wonderful things. When you were a scientist, you made great things…you made an Eva. Remember the Eva?"

Kyoko cocked her head, tilting it so far over that it would have fallen off if not attached. She fiddled with her pudding, and glanced at the doll.

"Eva," she mumbled, letting go of her spoon and tentatively nudged Letta. "Something…hmmm." Her hand gently retreated, and Asuka said nothing. She had been told that, when her mother acted this way, to let her sort it out instead of speaking to her. It was excruciating at times, but Asuka had learned to be patient, and watched her mother's gears working. Presently, a grin split Kyoko's face.

"Asuka," she finally said, pointing at the doll. She picked it up off the table, and placed it in her lap.

"No," Asuka said patiently, "That's Letta. I'm Asuka." Kyoko shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. She was trying to explain something, but couldn't form the sentence. She gave up, and simply smiled and held up Letta again.

"Asuka," Kyoko insisted, nuzzling the doll. One of her hands gently crossed the table, stroking Asuka's hand affectionately. She looked back at her daughter, smiling. Asuka then understood what her mother was trying to say.

"Yeah, that's me," Asuka replied, returning the smile. Kyoko nodded, happy her daughter had figured it out. Asuka was happy, too.

Butterscotch pudding and gardens could have that affect.


	30. The Arrowhead Man

**Notes from GobHobblin**: In response to Amsim, believe it or not…there is actually an Asuka Station in Antarctica right now - it's a permanent unmanned observation station in Queen Maud Land (which _somehow_ became a manned research station for purposes of the story. No idea how that happened...) It was too convenient and opportunity to pass up, so I ran with it. As for Shinji Katsuragi, I've never found the Doctor's first name mentioned, and since this was a more 'light' fic, I went with something sappy. Just because…

* * *

**December 17, 2024 - The Triangle, Afghanistan**

"Well, are you ready for Cheyenne, L. T. Bonham?"

1LT Ira Bonham made a face, but said nothing else. Cheyenne was the nick-name of Bacha Khalizad, one of the more successful, pro-Western, and downright eccentric chieftains in Afghanistan that the Americans had yet to work with. He was that rare combination of ability, talent, audacity, and sheer physical presence with access to resources that made him a force unto himself, and he had just requested to meet with his favorite Soldier, 'L. T. Bonham.' The lieutenant could probably be promoted to a light colonel, and still, Cheyenne would probably shout out in that thundering roar of a voice, "EEELLL TEEEE BONNNHAAM!"

It was wearying, but not as bad as what some chieftains did.

At current, the Third Platoon of B-Company, 1-336, Texas Army National Guard, was rolling through the dusty hinterlands near the hills of Red-Beard's private kingdom. He had said he'd seen something of interest, and wanted to let his favorite lieutenant know about it. And so, here they were, hopped up in full battle-rattle and trundling along in their Stryker-IIIs, wondering what it was to get the fellow so excited…he had practically _splattered_ them with frothing saliva over the radio, he was so giddy.

"Come on, don't be a sour-puss, sir," the gunner, a Sergeant named Yoffa, chided. "He'll probably ask you to marry his daughter again."

"Every time we meet he asks, S'arnt, that's not a feat of deduction there," Bonham sniped, rubbing his eyes as he watched his force trundling along via a satellite link on his command monitor. It used to be that a system known as BLUFORCE was their primary command net, but that had gone to the wayside some five years ago after countless updates and re-releases. This was the all new GRNWATCH, and finally (_finally_) integrated 3-D modeling for terrain and known vehicles and structures. A map was a great tool for a leader, but a terrain _model_…that was incalculable. It wasn't that the original OS had been bad…it wouldn't have been reused so frequently if it was. The age had simply caught up to it, and unlike a rifle or tank, software could only be used so long before it had nowhere left to go.

"Don't know why you're so sour about it, sir," Yoffa said thoughtfully. "I mean, you're both the same age, you're both single…she's _hot_…"

"Do you want a Pashtun chieftain for a father-in-law, Yoffa?"

"Not really, no…"

"Man your gun, Yenta."

"What's 'Yenta' mean?"

Bonham leaned back in his crash chair. "Yenta is a scourge upon the free-thinking man, invading his love life and forcing him to jump through countless hoops for her own amusement, and I dub thee Yenta."

"That seems a little hurtful…I think. You tend to prattle on, sir, and it's loud in this turret, so I'm only catching one out of every word…" Bonham kicked at the man's feet, knowing that to be a lie: their headsets made every word as clear as music. Yoffa laughed, raising his feet but saying no more. In truth, they were good friends…Bonham was as friendly as a platoon leader could _get_ with this crew, something seen more often in the Guard than the Active Army. The lines between civilian and military tended to blur, at times.

It was especially odd, in this case, as Bonham and most of his platoon were Active Guard. Several states who could afford it (along with hefty federal aid), activated or formed Guard detachments which were, more or less, full-time soldiering gigs. It was part of the federal response to the Others, as the majority of the fighting would be done by Reservist and Guard components. That wasn't an issue of skill, but numbers…the Guard tended to be larger than the Active Army in most situations, especially in maneuvering units, because Infantry units were cheap and easy to raise, compared to, say, Field Artillery or Armored units.

The fact that B-Company was a Mechanized Infantry crew made no never-mind to it's funding authority, because part of those funds did come from the state of Texas…but seventy-five percent came from the Federal government. Most Guardsmen recognized the Governor as their commander-in-chief during peace time or deactivation, but Bonham and his boys were under the President twenty-four seven _despite_ being Guardsmen.

It had it's advantages, all things considered. For one, the Guard of today was more part time civilians and full-time Soldiers. Having a gig like this was like finding gold in your ruck. You took it and ran.

And it had its disadvantages, of course…like rolling through the hills of Afghanistan to meet a Pashtun matchmaker with a penchant for bear-hugs. Especially as the American presence had been, more or less, constant for nearly two decades. With the incursions of the Others, they couldn't leave now even if they wanted to: they had moved from fighting terrorists to assisting a region in desperate need of aid in regards to refugees, nuclear contamination from what was left of Pakistan, and a dozen other missions that made simply extending the American presence easier than pulling it out. Damn if you do, damned if you don't, you break it, you bought it, and so on and so forth. The US was here to stay, for better or worse.

It had certainly made the dynamic more interesting, that was for certain. Take this region: it was called the Triangle, now, and was one of the busiest pieces of real estate in the country. Nestled between Iran and Turkmenistan, it was a highway for all sorts of illegal comings, goings, and happenings. Cheyenne had made his wealth being the toughest, most efficient chieftain in this region, combined with a willingness to work with the Americans (who he _adored_ for reasons vague and probably frightening) and an enthusiasm for handing over criminals and militia leaders in exchange for a blind eye to his own activities. It was a lot like being a cop, Bonham reasoned. You let a big fish go to reel in some really dangerous barracudas prowling the waters. Equilibrium was restored.

Not that Cheyenne was a bad sort, of course…just…well.

He was Cheyenne. The best way Bonham could sum him up was the last attempt on his life: the assassin had shot Cheyenne point blank with a single shot before the pistol jammed. Bleeding from his chest, Cheyenne stopped his bodyguards and waited for the man to clear the jam. When he was unable to do so, Cheyenne took the pistol from the man, cleared the jam himself, and returned it, telling him not to miss his second shot.

The man dropped the pistol and wisely fled. Bonham would have never believed it if not for meeting the man himself, who had turned himself over to the Americans for protection. To say Cheyenne was one in a million would be an understatement.

And now, Bonham thought tiredly as his Stryker-III rolled into Cheyenne's township, the legend was about to pop my shoulder blades out of place again.

* * *

"EEELL TTEEE BONHAM!" The Lieutenant braced himself, as the massive, shaggy, mountain-of-a-Pashtun waded through the crowd of his bodyguards, his arms extended. The first time this had happened, Americans and Pashtuns had pointed guns at each other, trying to understand exactly what was happening. A second sense had told Bonham to just go with it, and the diminutive man had quietly accepted this was going to be the new dynamic in his patrols in the region. Potential sniping, ambushes…and big, hulking man-hugs.

Sure as sunshine, the red-bearded man grasped the lieutenant, body armor and all, and hoisted him into the air. "Um…'llo, Cheyenne…" he grunted.

"Today, will you marry my daughter?"

"Let's talk about that later," Bonham deflected, "You sent a messenger to us. You found something?" Cheyenne dropped the Lieutenant, beaming at him. They stood in the courtyard of his compound, the village of his immediate family and clan scattered about. His professionally dressed guards lingered nearby, all of them with an air that set them above the average militia fighter one often encountered.

"Something worth a king's ransom," the massive man said, "My eunuch has the details." A thin Persian next to Cheyenne made a face, but did no more. Mahmoud Ebadi was not a eunuch, and in fact well known to Bonham. The man had been a former member of the Iranian Army when the Islamic Republic had suffered a palace coup following the arrival of the Others. He had fled here, and found work with Cheyenne as one of his lieutenants. He wasn't a bad boss, Mahmoud had explained…certainly an interesting one, though. The dynamic between the eccentric Cheyenne and the clinical Mahmoud had become especially amusing when Cheyenne had heard (or been told, or decided on a whimsy, it was hard to tell at times) that all important men had advisers who were eunuchs, and as Mahmoud was his best adviser, Mahmoud would be designated his eunuch. The other part of that equation never panned out, which Mahmoud and his wife were most grateful for. It just seemed that Cheyenne liked to announce he had a eunuch, and he was taking care of things.

Bonham smiled politely at Cheyenne, and winked at Mahmoud. The Iranian shrugged helplessly, and gave a half-grin. What are you gonna do, he seemed to ask. "So…eunuch," Bonham asked, earning a slight glare for his brief jab, "What's the word?"

"We've found something that seems to be Other in origin," Mahmoud said in English with a slight British accent. "In a cave we were setting up for a supply cache."

"Not weapons, of course," Bonham said, giving Cheyenne a sidelong glance.

"I would not!" Cheyenne said, seemingly offended. "Poppies, of course! I have to store them somewhere!" Bonham decided that he hadn't heard that, as he had no wish to discuss _that_ particular legal infraction at this point in time. It then occurred to him, in a part of his mind, that the best way to get away with a crime was often to be as audacious as possible. He had to wonder if there wasn't, therefore, a method to Cheyenne's madness at times.

"Continue, please," he asked, and Mahmoud smiled in appreciation.

"We know that the Americans have had a bounty out for anything that we find…Europeans, too, especially the Germans. However, because we've had good relations with you…" he gestured, specifically to Third Platoon, "We wanted to see if you were interested."

"Always, always," Bonham assured him. "Where's the cave?"

"A mile from here, at the base of the hills," Mahmoud explained. "We can't go by vehicle, though. We've been having problems with electronics near the sight."

"How far out?"

"It fluctuates. Sometimes ten meters away, sometimes a thousand. To avoid stranding any vehicles, we've set an outer limit of a kilometer and half."

"That's fine, then…we could use the walk," Bonham said.

"Walk? What are we, Noorzai primitives?" Cheyenne roared. "We will ride there, of course. Bring who you wish, and I will provide the horses. You want all forty men to go, I give you forty horses. And they'll be yours to keep."

"We'll borrow the horses, but we wouldn't dare take such fine gifts from Cheyenne when we can give nothing in return," Bonham said, diplomatically.

"We can call it a dowry. Just marry my daughter, and we will be even!" he said. A female voice then called from the house in Pashto, and Bonham considered himself saved. Fauzia Khalizad exited the house, her hair uncovered and wearing fatigues, boots, and a kheffiya around her neck. She was giving her father a tongue lashing, and he was responding timidly.

Fauzia was an indulged child, an only child in a household of four wives. Cheyenne had justified his inability to have children as a sign of virtue from Allah, saying that he was far too exceptional a man for there to be more than one of him, and thus Allah had to limit his ability to reproduce. It was a shockingly blasphemous thing for a Muslim (much less an Afghani Muslim) to say, but Cheyenne had large quantities of cash and goods, many loyal armed men, and was physically terrifying. That generally meant he could say and do what he wanted.

As for Fauzia, he doted on her, and all the wives did the same. Combined with his general lack of children elsewhere, he had ended up raising Fauzia somewhere halfway between a daughter and a son. So, in a country where whole regions still required women to cover their faces, Fauzia went bareheaded and barefaced. The last time someone had called her out on her impropriety, Cheyenne had taken that as a personal insult, and pieces of the unfortunate observer were still being found in lonely corners of the desert to this day.

Bonham waited patiently until Fauzia had seemed to satisfy her irritation, and turned to the Lieutenant. She flashed a brilliant smile, green eyes sparkling in coffee skin. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. My father has yet to learn boundaries apply even to men such as himself."

"No harm intended, ma'am," he said evenly, and admitted that it was hard to keep turning down Cheyenne's offer. Fauzia and him were of similar age, and she was, admittedly, a beautiful woman. What's more, she was assertive, shrewd, and intelligent, traits that had developed in abundance in a land that was hard on women.

"We will provide horses for _eight-_" she turned and gave her father a hard glare, "-of your men, whoever you choose. It will be safer and easier to make a trip with that number."

"That sounds good, but I just need two. One for myself and a recorder," he said. It wasn't the wisest thing for a platoon leader to be so separated from the platoon, but Cheyenne's crew was as loyal as one could get out here. Essentially, it boiled down to a calculated risk, and Bonham was making a command decision, in leaving the Platoon Sergeant with the whole of the platoon and just risking his own foolish self…and the recorder of course. The question was, whether it would pan out or not.

* * *

Contrary to common perception, not all Texans had horses or even knew how to ride. Bonham was one of those, and while the act of getting on the horse and getting it to generally wander in the direction he wanted was not _impossible_, doing so in full battle-rattle was certainly an experience.

"Stop making her nervous, she's the most gentle one we have!" Fauzia scolded, from her own mount. Bonham made a face at her, fighting the urge to pull harder on the hemp reigns. He knew that would only make the horse back up, but she continued to titter and shift under him, clearly understanding that her rider was nervous.

"Have you got anything in an older model? More sedentary? Like a grandma with no teeth?" he asked.

"That's what you get, so stop complaining," she replied tartly.

"She's a hard taskmaster," Mahmoud said drolly, pulling his horse up alongside Bonham's and petting the animal behind the ear until it calmed a bit. Wool, the soldier Bonham had picked as his recorder, sat easy and relaxed on his saddle. Bonham envied him.

"And impatient, too," Fauzia snapped. "Let's get going." She spurred her horse out from the corral, with Mahmoud, Wool, and Bonham following.

The ride out was bumpy, breakneck, and frightening, but Bonham fortunately didn't have to do much but just hang on. The horse seemed to know where to go, and followed the rest of the herd without too much encouragement. After a small eternity, in which Bonham was sure his lower spine had been broken or mangled beyond repair, they came upon the camp at the entrance to the so-called cave.

There were three men sitting outside of it, clearly Cheyenne's. If they had been native bandits or fighters from another group, they wouldn't have had fatigues and boots, as well as newer looking weapons. They stood nervously, and relaxed when they saw Fauzia. They called to her in Pashto, and she spoke back. "In there," she said to Bonham. "I'll stay with the horses."

"Good deal," he said. "Wool, with me." He dismounted uneasily, and took a moment for his knees to work themselves straight again. Mahmoud was already on the ground and walking towards the cave, a gas torch in hand.

"The thing that surprised us especially," he was saying as he ducked into the opening, "Was how close to the surface it was. These caves are old, and well known to the locals. They've never seen it here before, which is strange…whatever it is looks very old." Bonham followed, taking a moment to glance at his watch. The digital display was flickering random digits and cross-images. He paused just inside the cave's entrance and pulled his GPS. That was down, too.

"Seems odd to take so long to find, considering the interference," he mused.

"The interference didn't actually begin until the object was touched," Mahmoud said, waiting for Bonham. The Lieutenant tucked the GPS away and followed.

The torch cast flickering, almost greasy shadows across the walls as they continued down. The cave networks in Afghanistan were famous, ranging from small divots in the cliffs to vast, sweeping networks. Bonham could see why they were going to use this one as a hidey hole. It was tall, comfortable, easy to access…and then he saw it.

In the sandy floor of the cave, a six-faced pyramid jutted up from the floor. On one side, sand had been cleared away, but the effort had ceased when it became clear that the pyramid went deeper under the ground. As Bonham approached, the colors seemed to shift from gray to blue to black, sometimes even red. It was a beautiful object, if slightly strange and unnerving.

"I have taken to calling it the Marker," Mahmoud said, pointing to faint, regular script that covered the surface. They didn't seem to be letters, but they were too regular to be anything else.

"Don't name it, never name it, don't you watch any movies?" Bonham sighed, removing his left glove. "First you name it, then it…possesses one of us, or opens a portal to Hell, or turns us into zombies or something."

"You're a pessimist," Mahmoud sniffed.

"I'm a realist," Bonham grumbled, kneeling down next to the stone. He placed his palm on the surface of the stone. The cave was cool…but the stone was warm. Very warm. "How about that?" he mumbled.

"Yes. That exothermic property has been near-constant since we found it," Mahmoud said. Bonham always forgot how sharp Mahmoud really was until he let out a verbal gem like that. At times, he suspected Mahmoud was a hell of a lot smarter than he let on.

"Say what?" Wool asked.

"It's warm a lot," Bonham translated. "What's this material?"

"I have no idea," Mahmoud said. "But we know that there is a bounty on all things of this nature. This does not look Pashtun or Persian or Mongol. This…this is…"

"From the Others," Bonham said, smiling. "Or something like them. And you thought of your friends the Americans?"

"Like I said. Well, specifically, _Cheyenne_ did," Mahmoud said, smiling. "That, and many, many dollars. And his future son-in-law."

"Of course," Bonham said, replacing the glove. "We need to send up a message to FOB Cutty. Whiskey-Niner-Golf." W9G was the standard operating protocol for any identified artifacts or items that was Other in appearance or origin. In a few days, this place would be swarming with specialists from both the military and Sarif Industries. And, assuming Cheyenne's people weren't booted out, a lot of money was going to be flowing into this region. Bonham counted on that: Sarif had a good track record when working with local populations, regardless of the project.

Exiting the cave, Bonham felt intent eyes on him, and glanced up to see Fauzia studying him. "Well?" she asked. "Is it as important as my father thinks?"

"Your father, or you?"

She smirked. "Fine. My father thinks it's valuable, I think it's important. Is it either?"

"You've found something valuable…and interesting. Important, I don't know…that's above my pay-grade. But interesting…" He turned and looked back at the cave. "Interesting is the word of the day."

* * *

**Notes from GobHobblin**: In most situations, you would see a Special Forces team being the one to handle local relations like this (as that's what they're designed to do…one might be surprised to learn that a primary mission of Special Forces is not kicking in doors, but humanitarian aid and infrastructure support). Actual front-line units, however (especially foot units like Infantry, Military Police, and other maneuvers units), have found their roles easing into this a lot more (or being outright thrown into it) due to the nature of modern warfare. Really good leaders do all they can to cultivate good relations wherever they go, especially in the sense that those relations can be the difference between life and death. At this point in time, assuming an American presence has (by circumstance) become a more or less permanent thing, it could be expected that there would be a good deal of interaction between local leaders and on the ground troops. It would have to happen by simple necessity.

Regardless...it's a really bad idea for a platoon leader to seperate himself from his platoon like that. In other words, bad enough it should never be done. But, PLs are fallible humans, and Bonham made a judgement call that, for him, turned out to be okay...not necessarily right, though.

As a side note to this side note, I pulled Cheyenne's nickname from the character in Sergio Leone's 'Once Upon a Time in the West.' Great movie.


	31. This Sinful Earth

**December 31, 2024 - Anzen Hospice, Tokyo-3, Japan**

* * *

Nobody really celebrated New Years, anymore. Arrival Day was rarely something looked at with hope and joy, and merely the reminder of the new state of affairs the world found itself in. Despite that, Martin had decided to spend New Years with his wife and daughter, and celebrate it the old-fashioned way. So they arrived at the hospice on the understanding they would be there all night.

"You go see your mother," Martin said. "I have to talk to the staff for a moment, but I'll be outside the door." He opened the door to the room, and leaned in. "Guess who's here!"

Kyoko turned, and smiled brilliantly at him. Her eyes then focused on the little girl, and the smile became positively giddy. "Asuka!" Kyoko said happily as her daughter walked into the sitting room. She was cradling Letta, and letting the sunlight warm her. "Asuka," she repeated, holding the doll up.

"Hi, mommy," Asuka said, smiling a little as her father retreated to give them a little privacy. "We're here to celebrate New Years. We'll be here all night."

"Good, good…good. Good," Kyoko said, nodding and fixating on the word for a moment. She banished it from her lips with a bit of effort, and closed her eyes in thought. "Will you…all night? Stay…stay…"

"I'll try to. I _want_ to," Asuka said, catching the gist of the sentence.

"Me, too. Me, too. With you." She rocked back and forth like an excited child, and Asuka felt her smile become a little wider. She sat down in the chair across from her mother, her legs dangling.

"You keep me awake, and I'll keep you awake," Asuka promised.

"Deal. Deal." She helped up the doll. "Asuka," she said, smiling mischievously.

"Letta," Asuka said with a mock-serious face. She pointed at herself. "Asuka."

"Asuka," Kyoko said, pointing at the girl. "Little Asuka," and pointed back at the doll. It was the kind of thing she found amusing at times, something simple and repetitive that even Asuka enjoyed. It seemed to help in strange ways, and the doll had become a reminder of her daughter in a very profound way. It let her picture and hold on to the girl when she was gone, better than a photograph. Repeating it emphasized it to her. Asuka seemed to understand this, and played along.

"You'll get better this year," Asuka said. "I'll help you. You've already gotten a lot better."

"It's good…you're a good girl, Asuka. Mommy loves you so much…more than anything. Anything and everything…" She had begun to murmur, and her head drooped forward onto her chest. She had stopped rocking. Asuka felt very warm, and very odd. Her mother had been so clear in that moment, unlike how she had been for the past few weeks. And now…so still. So still.

"Mommy?" Asuka asked. Kyoko said nothing, slumping over slightly. "Mom…Mommy?" It was whispered now, and she tentatively reached out and shook her mother's shoulder. The woman swayed slightly, then fell heavily out of the chair. The motion made Asuka yelp, and Martin was in the room in a heartbeat. He stared at his wife for a brief second, then turned and screamed for help. A flurry of activity seemed to erupt around Asuka, who had dreamily moved against a wall. Trying to vanish. To disappear.

Something in Asuka had broken through all her child's understanding of the world to tell her that her mother was dead. There was no getting around it, no avoiding it. It was a fact, it was real, and it had happened in front of her. One moment her mother was there, and the next, so quickly and so suddenly, she wasn't. Asuka had never even noticed.

She didn't feel sad, or afraid. She felt as though her heart would explode, but that was a physical sensation. All she felt was numb. Very numb. It was like her soul had been washed in anesthetics, sleeping away as the world took its course. Soon, she felt herself being lifted into the air. Her father was carrying her away, and she could no longer see her mother.

"We need to go, Little Mouse," he whispered. "We need to go." It was then the tears came.

* * *

In the hanger of Unit-02, there was a skeleton crew monitoring the input/output readings of the beast. Something seemed to cascade for a moment, an overwhelming flow-back of signals from the giant before it leveled out. One of the quicker techs realized that Unit-02 had suddenly achieved full resonance. Comparing that unit to Unit-o1's proved it.

Unit-02 was up.

They called Dr. Ikari to inform her of this ten minutes after she had finished speaking to Martin about Kyoko. She had barely time to process that her friend, her best friend and colleague, had just passed away when the tech called with the news. The building sadness and anger was suddenly washed away as lines connected in her head, and a feeling somewhere between wonder and horror entered her mind. She confirmed the time the cascade had began, and she hung up without another word.

Unit-02 had reached resonance not but a minute after Kyoko had died.

* * *

"I'm sorry to hear you're headed back to Germany," Gendo said. They were sitting in his study, at the Ikari residence. The Ikaris had offered up their home for the reception, and a small crowd of well-wishers and mourners spiraled in and out of the building under tight scrutiny and security. Martin had retreated here to try and get away from the crowd, and Gendo and Yui had joined him. "Our kids will miss Asuka."

"She'll miss them," Martin agreed. "I just need to…" He waved his hand in the air. "I have to go. I can't stay here. She's too present."

"You're not worried about being too close to…" Gendo shrugged.

"No, I'm not. I'm not working for Nerv or Gehirn, anymore," he said. "There's plenty of security work for a fellow like me. Don't worry…they won't bother me."

"If they do, let us know," Gendo said. Martin nodded.

"You'll keep in touch, of course…it'll be a shame for Rei and Asuka to not be able to talk," Yui said. She had a nervous look, and was trying to bring up something, but wasn't sure how.

"Certainly. I want those two to stay friends, so we'll…we can give them phone sessions."

"That's good," Yui said. She swallowed. "Um…Martin…I have something…that's been on my mind, and I can't think of any good way to bring it up." As far as he knew, his wife's brain had simply shut down, an unprecedented stroke. Which was true…but it wasn't the whole truth. She laced her fingers on her knee. "This isn't the best time to do so, but it may be the only time we have together alone. It seemed…that a minute after Kyoko passed away, there was a…successful resonance within Unit-02. It had completely activated, and is now parallel to Unit-01." Martin nodded.

"That's good. Kyoko would have liked to hear that," he said.

"Martin," Yui pressed, and Gendo cocked an eyebrow. He knew that tone. "It reached resonance…a minute after she died." The German leaned back, his brow furrowing.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked, and Gendo's eyes widened as he came to the realization on his own.

"The Evas…require…well, 'souls' to be fully activated. Unit-01 copied mine, we think, but 02…leeched a little bit off of Kyoko." Martin's expression went wooden, almost bland. "Martin…I _think_ that…"

"Kyoko is dead," he said, flatly. Yui blinked. He was smart, he knew where she was going with this. Why cut her off?

"But-"

"My wife is dead," he repeated, and smiled sadly. "I understand you have your…theories. I can't live on that. My daughter can't. Kyoko is…" He closed his eyes, the lids quivering for a moment. "That's all there is to it."

* * *

Shinji was told not to bother Asuka, but it was so _hard_ not to be curious. At seven, the world was a place of mystery and intrigue, and Shinji had to learn about these things. Today, though, that mystery had taken a sour, even sinister note. His clothing was scratchy and uncomfortable, he was surrounded by adults, and everyone seemed caught between sadness and happiness. It was a funeral, he knew that. Asuka's mom was dead.

That was hard to take in, but he didn't feel sad about it. He didn't know what to feel about it. He had _liked_ the woman Asuka had called mother, who he called Aunt Kyoko. It didn't seem entirely real that she was dead. It's hard to feel anything about something you don't understand, or even _believe_. Besides, if it was real, why the happiness? Why laughter?

He had cornered Naoko, and asked her point-blank. "Why are people laughing?" he asked, and Naoko had blinked. It was a child's question, but surprisingly astute at the same time.

"Some people remember Kyoko in a good way, and they want to laugh about the good things while being sad. Does that make sense?" she asked.

"A little," he replied. "Where's Asuka?" He grown out of the habit of calling her ''Suka.'

"Resting. Don't bother her," Naoko said. Again…don't bother Asuka. Which meant now he _had_ to. He crept through the party, unnoticed at his level, and headed upstairs. It was the only place he could think of, and one of the doors was closed. The door to his parents' bedroom. They rarely closed it, so it was the first thing he noticed. He cracked the door, and saw that Asuka was on their bed, wearing nice clothes but curled up. He slipped into the room, and saw that her blue eyes were open and wet. She looked like she had been crying, but her face was blank. She didn't pay any attention to him.

"Hi, Asuka," he said. It seemed the right thing to say. She didn't reply, so he said it again. "I said 'hi.'"

"Go…away…" she mumbled, her voice very faint and quivering. That stung him a bit, and he didn't know how to reply to that. He hung his head, and went back into the hallway. It was then that Kyoko's death became _real_ to him, seeing his friend like that. She had the appearance of true and utter pain, something even a little boy could understand. It suddenly made him want to cry, being pushed away like that and understanding _why_ she had. It had hurt…but he knew why, as well.

He had to do something.

He went back into his room and grabbed Pen-Pen. It was the first thing he could think of, and it had become very important to him to follow through on it. He went back into his parents' bedroom, and Asuka still ignored him. He placed the stuffed bird next to her.

"You should take Pen-Pen. I think he'll help you feel better. He always makes me feel better," he said. Would that mean anything? Or would it make her angry at him? He might be a child, but he somehow knew that he had never experienced what she had. What if _his_ mother had died? Would he care if someone said something like that to him?

He didn't know…all he knew was that this was the only thing he could think to do. "I know it won't make things better…" he added, when she didn't respond. "I just thought you might like to have him."

Asuka said nothing…but one arm slowly encircled the bird and deliberately pulled it in. She wrapped the other arm around it, and closed her eyes. Shinji continued to stand there until he realized Asuka had fallen asleep.

He walked out and closed the door. Somehow, he knew that he had done the right thing.

* * *

**Notes from GobHobblin**: And that's it for a while (and on such a spot to stop, I know!). I have a horrendous week (or two…or sixteen. Probably sixteen…) coming up that is going to see incredibly sporadic updates. Sorry, FanFicFanatics. Just known that none of the fics are dead, just on irregular update. I will post when I can, and I am so grateful you guys have continued to read. Thanks all, and I'll see you when I see you.


	32. Needs

**Notes from GobHobblin**: Okay…maybe one more or three…

* * *

**February 3, 2025 - Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3, Japan**

* * *

"Still no dice," the technician said, and Yui sighed. She had been lounging in the LCL for four hours now, and nothing. Not a peep, not a jolt…nothing. Unit-01 had been stubbornly silent, and there was no synchronization happening.

"All right, pull me. This is _stupid_." She felt a lurch as the Plug popped out, and the LCL drained. The hatch opened, and the tech assisted her out. "Run a check on the links inside the Plug receptacle again," she ordered, squeezing LCL from her hair as she did. She hurried to the locker room, stripped out of the Plug Suit, showered, changed into fresh clothes, and was surprised by Naoko in the hallway.

"I think I have an idea," Naoko said.

"You _think_ you do?" Yui asked.

"Look, the Evas are all linked up through the command net for MAGI, which means they all run on the same processing language, biological components or no," Naoko was saying. "It's how we…with Unit-02…" she trailed off, and Yui nodded. "Anyway, if we use the same principle, we might be able to figure out how Unit-01 is _thinking_."

"You mean…" Yui began. Naoko nodded.

"Maybe we can _ask_ it what the problem is," Naoko suggested. Yui inhaled, thinking about it.

"Oh, hell, why not," Yui sighed, too tired to play devil's advocate.

* * *

Yui rubbed her eyes as Naoko tacked away at the console, a team of MAGI techs supporting her efforts. She was having to write the code on the fly, but was using a good portion of what already existed for Unit-02. Most of it was just a matter of rewriting, adjusting, so on and so forth. The thing was, Unit-02 _thought_ like a human. Communication was not difficult. There was no telling how 01 thought.

After a while, however, Naoko clucked in pleasure. Yui looked down at her. "What?"

"Success! See, I am brilliant," she cheered, and Yui smiled. Naoko pointed to a small set of numbers at the bottom of the code she had. "You translate that out into something like Japanese, and it basically says 'We talk.' It's an invitation for a conversation. Hang on a second…Sen-Yu, could you enter that algorithm I hand you earlier?" A tech nodded, and tacked away at her keyboard. A moment later, some of the numbers, including the ones that Naoko had pointed out, flickered into letters. A lot of it was gibberish, but there, just as Naoko had said…WE TALK.

The woman began tacking away at numbers and letters in a seemingly random sequence.

"I'm essentially querying it what it wants in a pilot. What requirements," Naoko said. "I'm having to do some voodoo to do it, but the responses should be in clear words, more or less. Easy to read, easy to understand."

"Thank God for that," Yui mumbled, leaning over the woman's shoulder. After a length of time, Naoko sent the ream of characters she had completed on their way. There was no response for a moment, as if the creature was thinking it over. Then, the response came.

Yui's face froze as a single word began to cascade down the screen in three-line increments. _Shinji…Shinji…Shinji…Shinji…Shinji…_

* * *

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" She was shrieking the word, throwing items around her office. Gendo stood in the corner, feeling his own unease but allowing Yui to vent hers. "Why? Why? Why _that_? Why…God…Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God."

"It wants Shinji to pilot," Gendo said, "And no one else. Why is that?"

"I don't _know_! I don't know, I don't understand. Maybe because I was thinking about him when contact was made? I don't know." She wiped convulsively at her face. "Gendo, why can't we deal with _normal_ problems like other families do?"

He sighed. "That's what we get for being at ground zero for the end of the world."

"Don't be so flippant!" she snapped, turning on him. He continued to stand, patient and stolid. She relaxed, feeling bad. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you like that."

"I understand…and I wasn't being flippant. We we're right there when it happened, which means were are the ones who best know how to fight it. And you touched Lilith…Yui, you're our entire program, for all intents and purposes. Without…Kyoko. And Naoko is doing her best, but she knows she's not in the same league as you two were…and are…in concerns of the Evangelion Project." He spread his hands. "We got picked by an uncaring universe. It's awful, but it's the bed we have to lie in. We can make this work."

"How?" Yui slumped in her chair, looking down at the floor. She had thoroughly trashed her office, and was now wondering how to put it all back together. "Just…_how_?"

"One day at a time," Gendo said patiently. She rolled her eyes.

"No platitudes," she mumbled. He crossed the room, and stroked her hair. She closed her eyes, and accepted it. She wanted something to feel good about, and she didn't feel good right now. "Gendo," she said.

"Yes?"

"About…sending Shinji away…" she squirmed in her seat. "Please, let's…let's do it. I don't want him _near_ 01…not until we figure it out. Okay?"

"Are you sure?" Gendo asked, concerned.

"I just…Gendo, he's our son. He's a _child_…I can't…I don't…" she trailed off, unable to finish it. "I…just…"

"All right. All right. We'll handle this as best we can, okay?" He sighed, and stood up. "Why don't you go talk to Kyoko? She's probably been lonely today." Yui nodded convulsively.

"Will you see the Mermaids, today?" she asked.

"Yes, I will," Gendo agreed. He turned to leave, and Yui reached out and grabbed his hand, pressing it against her forehead. For a long time, they sat there like that. It was all they could do, right then and there.

* * *

Yui sighed, looking at the console. There was no one else around, and she had opened a link that only she, Gendo, and Naoko knew about. It would not appear in MAGI's logs, and it could not be accessed anywhere else. Only here, in the launch chamber for the massive, red behemoth that stood before her now, on the other side of thick-plated glass and floating in a small lake of LCL. It had to be red, of course. Kyoko had insisted on that.

She steeled herself, and typed. ARE YOU THERE? She waited patiently for a response. After a minute or so…

_I WAS DREAMING._

WHAT ABOUT?

_MY DAUGHTER._ Yui felt her pulse quicken for a moment, her heart tightening. _HOW HAS SHE BEEN?_

I'VE SEEN PICTURES, FROM MARTIN. DO YOU WANT TO SEE THEM?

_ANOTHER TIME, MAYBE. HAS HE STARTED DATING AGAIN?_

Yui flinched. IT'S ONLY BEEN A YEAR.

The icon sat winking at her, as if contemplating a response. _HE SHOULD START DATING AGAIN_, the answer came, slowly and almost sadly.

HE MISSES YOU VERY MUCH. LET HIM GRIEVE IN HIS OWN TIME.

_I KNOW. I JUST DON'T LIKE BEING FUSSED OVER._

HE'LL MOVE ON, IN HIS OWN TIME.

_YES, THAT'S TRUE. HOW ARE THINGS WITH YOU?_

UNIT-01 WANTS SHINJI TO PILOT IT, Yui typed. There was no reply for a long time.

_I AM SO SORRY, YUI,_ Kyoko replied.

I'M SENDING HIM AWAY, FOR HIS SAFETY, Yui said. I DON'T WANT HIM TO DO IT.

_I AGREE. THAT'S A SMART DECISION, BUT A PAINFUL ONE. I TRULY AM SORRY._

IT'S OKAY. IT'S TRIVIAL, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED.

Yui squirmed in her seat, and decided to let Kyoko know what she had been sitting on for a year. She had wanted to tell her, but never really figured out how to. I STILL HAVE YOUR BODY SAVED. ICED. I DON'T KNOW WHAT MARTIN WOULD SAY TO THAT. I FEEL AWFUL FOR DOING IT, BUT THERE STILL MAY BE A WAY TO REVERSE THIS.

The icon pondered._ I DOUBT IT_, the reply came. _THANK YOU FOR THE THOUGHT…BUT I THINK THIS IS HOW IT WILL ALWAYS BE. FOR NOW._

DON'T SAY THAT. DON'T EVEN THINK IT.

_IT'S NOT SO BAD, REALLY. IT'S PRACTICALLY INFINITE, IN HERE. I HAVE ACCESS TO THE WHOLE OF MAGI'S INFORMATION SYSTEMS. SOMETIMES I EVEN FORGET I'M IN THE EVA. I JUST WISH_

And the line stopped. Yui waited patiently, knowing that Kyoko was trying to form the right words.

_I WON'T HOLD ON TO MARTIN. I LOVE HIM, BUT HE SHOULDN'T PINE OVER ME. I JUST WISH I COULD HOLD ASUKA AGAIN. I REALLY WANT MY DAUGHTER._

I KNOW, Yui said, feeling her eyes burn a bit. I KNOW. DO YOU STILL WANT TO TELL THEM, SOMEDAY.

_NO. NO. I DON'T THINK SO. MAYBE. NO_. The line paused for a moment, and a miserable_ I DON'T KNOW_ scrawled across the screen. Yui nodded, and tacked at the keys.

DON'T DECIDE TONIGHT. WE'LL FIGURE IT OUT, OKAY? YOU AND ME, LIKE ALWAYS.

_LIKE ALWAYS_, Kyoko agreed. Yui sighed, and leaned back in her chair, staring at the gargoyle face of Unit-02. Somewhere in there was her friend, and she had to get her out, somehow. Somehow.

"How is she, tonight?" Gendo asked, and Yui glanced up. She hadn't heard him enter.

"She misses her daughter," she said.

"I'm sorry for that," he sighed, crossing his arms. "Not as sorry as I am for keeping her body on ice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked darkly.

"I just don't want Martin to find out and get the wrong impression," he sighed. "It looks devious. It _is_ devious."

"It is what it is," Yui mumbled, now very tired. "I thought you were going to see the girls."

"They were all sleeping. I didn't want to wake them," he said. "Kozo had been running them through tests again."

"Poor things," Yui sighed.

"Aren't we all?" Gendo murmured.


	33. Partings and Meetings

**February 17, 2025 - Ikari Residence, Tokyo-3, Japan**

"_Don't make him go!_" Rei was wailing, "_He didn't do anything wrong_!"

Yui was halfway between sobbing and laughing. Rei had read about children being sent away in books, and somehow decided that, because Shinji was being sent to live under Sarif's protection, he was somehow being punished. It was a strange assessment for an eight-year old as intelligent as Rei to come to, Yui thought, but it was a fair one.

Shinji thought he had done something wrong, as well. Gendo was talking to him, explaining in daddy-son terms why this had to happen. Yui dealt with Little Miss, instead.

At the moment, Rei stood in the center of her room with her hands pressed against her sides, her face scrunched up and soppy, thick tears flooding her lashes. "Darling, he isn't being punished!" Yui insisted. "We love Shinji, and we don't _want_ him to go. He _has_ to go," Yui repeated.

"But _why_?" Rei asked. "Why does he have to go? He'll be alone! _I'll_ be alone! First, _Asuka_ left, and now _Shinji_'s leaving…and…" She couldn't form the words, and they came out incoherent and strangled.

"You still have all your sisters," Yui insisted, but Rei shook her head.

"But they can't _do_ anything! Shinji played with me, and talked to me, and did stuff with me! His my _brother_, and you're _taking him away from me_!" Yui was fighting a losing battle, and she knew it. Rei was actually doing a better job of persuading Yui to chuck the whole thing in the fire than Yui was persuading Rei that their family was not falling apart. And still…

_Shinji…Shinji…Shinji…Shinji…_

Rei was a little big for Yui to pick up now, but she knelt down and hugged her daughter close. The girl didn't return the hug, but she buried her face into Yui's shoulder. "This is…so hard, love," she said. "It's the hardest thing I have ever had to do. We _have _to, though, because it's safer for Shinji. You love your brother, right?"

Rei said 'more than anything,' but it was muffled against Yui's shirt. "And you want him to be safe, right?" Rei nodded. "Sometimes, we have to do things we don't like so that the ones we love can be safe."

"But why can't I go with him?" Rei insisted, "I don't want him to be alone!" Rei was still a bit of a skirt-clinger, so hearing her suggest going with her brother away from her dear mother was much less selfish than it sounded.

"He won't be, honey. And you can't go…you need to stay here so _you're_ safe," Yui explained.

"It's not fair!" Rei weeped, "It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!"

"It never is, honey," Yui said, kissing her daughter. "It never is."

* * *

Shinji sat in his father's chair, inside the study where he used to come and play. Now, it had taken a sinister shape, more like a place of sentencing than a place of refuge. Gendo sat across from him on a footstool, leaning forward but not invading Shinji's space. The boy looked like he had just taken a blow to the chest.

"What did I do?" Shinji asked, quietly. "Did I make you mad? Are you mad at me? I'm sorry, I'm sorry whatever I…" Gendo was so surprised by the question that he let Shinji continue his plea before finding his own words and stopping him.

"No…no, no, no, we're not _mad_ at you," Gendo said gently. "Shinji, this feels awful for us. This is an awful thing we're doing, but we _have _to do it, and it's not your fault. You didn't do anything to make this happen, because your a good boy and a very good son."

"But…_why_?" Shinji asked. It was all he could do.

"There are things happening here that are just not safe for you," Gendo explained. "We need to know that you're somewhere safe. You remember David Sarif, right?" Shinji shrugged. He had met the man twice, and he didn't really have an opinion about him one way or the other. "He's a good fellow. He's good friends with your mom, and he'll give you a good life in America."

"I don't want to go…" he said meekly.

"I don't want you to, either, kiddo," Gendo sighed, placing a hand on Shinji's shoulder. "I want you to be safe, though. You know I love you. Your mother loves you, and Rei loves you. We love you so much…don't think you're going because we don't love you. Okay?" Shinji nodded, but he had no words.

* * *

Hunter Vaas was twenty-three, and already had experience as a close protection man. He had joined with Nerv Security at the age of seventeen (with the assistance of his father, and _despite_ certain hiring disqualifications), and it proved a wise choice. He was smart, adaptable, and very skilled in personal protection. He had learned from one of the best bodyguards in the industry, after all, even if he spent half of his life growing up in America. He stood in loose civilian clothing, next to a man in a suit from Sarif Industries, inside a hanger next to a private het. Jorge Olbregon was a little miffed that Nerv had insisted a Security man from their group accompany Shinji at all times, feeling it rankle on his professional pride. It was as though they didn't trust Sarif's security detachments.

"So…Hunter," he ventured.

"It's actually pronounced _XOON-ter_, but, you know, whatever floats your boat," he said. It sounded like he was clearing his voice when he said it, and the tone was bored. It took the Sarif man a moment to remember that this was, in fact, a twenty-three year old. He acted like he was forty, at times.

"_Hunter_," he said with the new pronunciation, "If we're going to be working together, we need to establish some ground rules." The younger man turned, and gave Olbregon a sardonic look. He had gray eyes like his father, but they somehow seemed more alive.

"I am _not_ here to infringe on your professional whatever-you-want-to-call-it," he said. "I am here because my father and my principle's father have asked me, as a favor, to be this boy's acting guardian in addition to David Sarif. You think they were just going to chuck him off to the US and be done with him? I'm the lifeline, bru. You want ground rules and policy, put it in a memo."

This was going to be difficult, Jorge decided.

Before he could say anything else, a convoy of vehicles entered the hangar, civilian vans that were up-armored. The one at the rear opened first, and two uniformed Security men exited with trunks containing the boys clothing and personal items. They went to the rear of the jet to load it as the forward van opened, and Hunter got to see Shinji Ikari in the flesh.

The boy looked scared, and miserable, and hunted all at once. Hunter felt his lips tighten. He had this thing about kids, a sort of protective streak. He worked well with them, he liked them, and he tended to get edgy when they were in trouble. It was one of the reason's he had been asked to do this. This boy was in need of some sort of positive reinforcement, much more than a bodyguard. He was being separated from a loving family, and while David Sarif was a nice enough fellow, he was hardly _father figure _material. Hunter wasn't, either…but he didn't need to be. He just needed to be _there._

Gendo crossed the tarmac, shaking Jorge's hand first, the Hunter's. "His sister couldn't come, she kept crying too much," Gendo whispered to Hunter. "So he's still a little upset. And his mother is…having second thoughts." Dr. Ikari was holding the boy so tight it looked like she would crush him, and she was whispering something to him.

"And you?" Hunter asked.

"I feel sick, mostly," Gendo admitted. "I've just gotten good at hiding it."

"It can still work. Look at me and your little henchman," Hunter said with a smile. Gendo gave a rare smile back. He had known Hunter since Richter Vaas had brought him to the Director's attention upon being assigned as his personal security man, primarily because he had fully admitted to pulling strings (some possibly unethical ones) to get the boy hired. He had done so, he said, because he didn't want Hunter in an army somewhere when Nerv was so fundamentally important _right now_. His first meeting with Hunter had been relaxed, mostly because the fellow had continued to roll a coin over his knuckles and perform light legerdemain tricks while holding a serious conversation about his skills and experience. It had been such an amusing tic that the conversation had turned to that instead, and Gendo had begun to form a good opinion of the man on subsequent meetings. He had discussed assigning Hunter to this with Richter, figuring a singe Nerv man would have a better emotional and constructive connection with Shinji than a whole slew of bodyguards. Besides, Sarif was the one providing the slew.

"I don't know how realistic frequent trips will be for his safety," Gendo admitted. "And we won't be able to keep coming and going, either."

"You do what you can, Director," Hunter said with a shrug. Shinji had finally become disentangled from his mother, who looked puffy-eyed and miserable. She walked him over to the steps of the plane.

"Shinji," Gendo said. "This is Hunter Vaas. He's Richter's little boy." Hunter smiled at that, and Shinji stared at him with a blank expression. "He's going to be taking care of you in America."

"Hey, there, Shinji," Hunter said in a friendly tone. Shinji said nothing. "We'll talk later, it'll be fine," Hunter added with a wink. Poor kid. Gendo knelt down and hugged the boy close, and said something quietly in his ear that was for Shinji and Shinji alone. Yui stood to the side, hugging herself and looking lost. Jorge looked uncomfortable, but Hunter stood relaxed. It wasn't indifferent, but necessary: these people needed to be reminded that the world would not end when the boy stepped on the plane. They would still be a family, still see each other.

This was something Hunter had personal experience in…another reason he had been asked.

"Okay," Gendo said. "Go ahead and go with Hunter. We'll be waiting for your call when you get to where you're going, okay?" Shinji still said nothing, wooden and frozen.

"Come on," Hunter said, taking the boys hand. "Let's go."

* * *

They were lifting off when Shinji ducked his head and started bawling. The reality of the situation had hit him, and Hunter said nothing as the boy got his cry out. Shinji cried hard and loud for about fifteen minutes before he had nothing left to give, and sat sullen and wet-faced as Hunter waited

"Hey, bru," Hunter said, shuffling a hand into his coat pocket. "You look down." Shinji looked at him, but said nothing. "You're down, aren't you?" Shinji still said nothing, so Hunter, and pulled out a small box and laid it on the table between them. "You know what always cheers me up, it's cards. Good game of cards, you know any games?" He laid the cards out on the table, and began to shuffle the well-worn deck. Shinji still said nothing, but Richter kept shuffling, and shuffling, increasing the complexity and depth of each shuffle. Gradually, Shinji's eyes turned towards the cards, and before long he was openly staring at the dancing pieces of cardboard. Richter had a magician's talent with the cards, and just as they seemed to be reaching a frenzied climax, he folded them all back into a neat pile. "It's good to have nimble fingers for cards. You have nimble fingers?"

Shinji stared at him owl-eyed. "Let's see," Richter said, offering a hand. Unsure of what to do, Shinji gave up his left hand. Richter examined it with a scrutinous eye. "Hmm…yes. You play an instrument, right?"

"C…cello," Shinji said meekly. "I don't…play very much. I just started…"

"Still, you got some nice callouses along your fingertips. I play guitar, did you know that?"

"N…no."

"Yeah. Makes your fingers nimble. You'll be shuffling cards like a pro in no time." Shinji perked up a bit, trying to picture himself making the cards dance and play as Hunter had. "Here. We start small. Blackjack. Easy game, two cards each to start with. You pick that up, I'll teach you five-card stud. We'll do some more fun ones later." The rules were simple, and they had played twenty hands before Shinji started winning them on his own. He found he liked card games.

"So…you're gonna teach me more card games?" Shinji asked.

"Yeah, bru, I'll teach you whatever you want to know. You know what a balisong is?" Shinji shook his head. "You will, bru," Hunter said with a smile.

"What's…what's 'bru' mean?" he asked.

"Bru? It's like, you know…bro, brother. Aniki. That's the word, aniki. My dad calls me that, when we hang out. It's a South African thing. You want me to stop it?"

"No, it's…bru?"

"Yeah." Hunter dealt another hand. "We'll get along fine, you and me. Right?" Shinji very…_very_…cracked a cautious smile. Hunter smiled back. Shinji was still sad, still confused…but it was okay to smile, he decided. Every now and then.

* * *

The flight across the ocean was not very long. It used to be much longer, the man named _XOON-ter_ said to him (Shinji had found he liked saying the odd name). Now, jets like this one could make the trip very quickly. They were going first to Hawaii, Hunter said, then Los Angeles, then Dallas, and then Detroit. They could make the trip much shorter, Hunter was saying, but they were stretching it out for security reasons.

That was all well and good, but that meant nothing to Shinji. He was tired, but too wired and jittery to sleep. He explored the plane as Hunter studied something an a palm pad. It was expensive, and felt nothing like a plane. There were tables, plush chairs, a television. Shinji turned it on, and saw that there were hundreds of channels available via satellite, even on the plane.

"Wanna put on a movie?" Hunter called, but Shinji wandered to the back of the plane, leaving the menu up on the screen. The bathroom was back there…it actually had a full shower in it. This was what being wealthy must feel like, he thought. He had always thought that he and his family were rich people, but now he was not so sure.

"What's a balisong?" Shinji finally asked. The question had been bothering him all day. Hunter smiled, and pulled what looked like two metal rods clipped together from a pocket. With a flourish, he had opened them, and a knife appeared. A whirl of glittering, clicking, and swishing later, and Shinji stood dazzled.

"It's not the _best_ knife, you know," he said, "But it's a _fun_ one. I like 'em," he said. "You don't get to play with this one, though. I'll get you a dull one…when you're ready."

"Okay," Shinji said, wondering at the fellow. He didn't seem anything like the man that followed his father everywhere. In fact, he made the trip bearable. They watched a movie, at junk food from the plane's refrigerator, drank sodas. Hunter told him stories, and Shinji listened. Shinji told Hunter everything he knew, about the cello, about books, about his sister, and Hunter listened. It was something impressionable to a young boy to have a man stop, listen, and take you seriously.

"It's not just the one sister, though…I have, like ten."

"Ten? Ten sister?"

"Yeah…Rei, Haru, Sakura, Kei, Tsukiko, Mari, Aimi, Momo, Kimu, and Aya," Shinji listed with practiced ease.

"That's a lot of birthday gifts," Hunter said thoughtfully.

"They all look alike, but I can tell them apart. I don't even need the numbers?"

"Numbers?"

"Yeah. They have numbers on their swimsuits…you know about them, right?"

"Are these the mermaids I hear talk about?"

"Yeah, they get called that."

"Never met them. Heard them talked about, but never met 'em," Hunter admitted. "So…wait…they all look the same…but _you_ can tell each one apart."

"Well…yeah…" Shinji said, as if surprised by that. "I'm their brother." He began to feel sad, realizing he hadn't told _them_ good-bye. He didn't spend very much time with them…not nearly as much as he spent with Rei, and the two had been joined at the hip, more or less. He knew, though, that as a brother, he should have _said_ something to them…but he had forgotten about them.

Everyone tended to forget about them.

"They don't come out, much," he said. "It's bad for them. They get sick."

"You wish they could, though, right?"

"Yeah."

"Like you wish you could go home." Shinji looked up, seeing the parallel drawn by Hunter. "It's not fair that they have to be there," Hunter continued, "But they have to be. Like it's not fair for you to go…but you _have_ to."

Shinji nodded, feeling sad again. He thought about his sisters the rest of the flight.

* * *

Shinji was intimidated by Detroit. It was a prosperous city, but one still rampant with poverty. The result was a city at odds with itself, twisting back and forth from the Renaissance/Baroque styles of the business and middle-to-upper class with the grime of the street all merging into one. Considering that they had arrived at night, it felt all the more surreal. The snow in the streets and the cold made him want to curl inside, and not come out.

"There's SI headquarters," Hunter said, pointing to strange merger of what seemed to be glass and coral rising from the concrete below, armed guards wandering in front of the building. They formed a line between the vehicles and the entrance, and Hunter exited first. He let Shinji out, and practically propelled him towards the door. It wasn't rough, but it was hurried, and deliberate. Something about the action reminded Shinji that Hunter wasn't a friend…he was a bodyguard. Could a bodyguard be a friend? He wasn't sure. He really hoped so.

Inside, a man with a well trimmed beard and mustache waited for them, wearing a very expensive long coat. Small black objects seemed affixed to the skin near his eyes. "Hunter Vaas?" he said in a grating voice.

"Adam Jensen, I presume," Hunter said, shaking the man's hand. The fellow turned his eyes to Shinji, and the boy saw little yellow lines on the surface of the eyes.

"You must be Shinji Ikari. Welcome to Detroit," he said, extending a hand. The limb was black, and beetle-like.

It was the first time Shinji had met a cyborg. The hand felt strange, almost like rubber and plastic but not. "What…happened to you?" Shinji asked, before regretting it. It was the kind of impetuous thing a child would ask.

To his relief, Jensen seemed receptive. "There was a bad lab accident, and I was assisting the scientists. There was an explosion, and I was seriously injured. David gave me surgery as compensation."

"I thought that was a break-in," Hunter said quietly.

"That was a month later," Jensen said. "That's where I lost my liver."

"Liver's are overrated, anyway," Hunter said, not in the least bit uncomfortable. Jensen shrugged, and led them to an elevator. They rode up, Shinji silent as the men discussed security arrangements. The doors opened, and Shinji followed the two adults, as they checked in with the receptionist. She smiled at him, but Shinji didn't smile back. Everything was glass, shiny, and intimidating. He wanted to go home. He watched as the cyborg turned to leave.

"Not joining us?" Hunter asked with a grin.

"David can be a handful," Jensen admitted, "And I don't want to get roped into anything just yet. I have some other things I've been trying to catch up on. Just come down to the security office when you're done." He turned, and left back down the elevator.

"Come on, bru," Hunter whispered, patting Shinji on the shoulder, and guiding him into the office. It was an amazing sight for a little boy, with the sculptures, the holographic art, everything almost tailor-designed to look messy and organized at the same time. It overwhelmed Shinji, and he was unprepared for the man that greeted them.

David Sarif was a handsome man with black hair and ferret features, but he was loud, and too friendly. "There he is!" he said, holding out both hands (one of which was artificial) as if presenting Shinji as an award. "Shinji Ikari! Welcome, welcome. I hope your trip was good?"

"It was…fine…" he whispered.

"Excellent, good to hear it. And you must be Hunter Vaas," David said. The bodyguard smiled, and as was his custom, corrected David on the pronunciation. "My apologies. Interesting name, by the way. Vaas is Dutch?"

"Afrikaaner, but close," the bodyguard said. "It was shortened from van der Vaas by my grandfather."

"I see. Well, I'm glad you could make it. Shinji," he said, turning his too-white smile towards Shinji. "You're gonna like it here. I've got a school set up to take you, and an apartment all your own. And Hunter's, of course. I'd say come live with me, but this is pretty much where I live as it is." He gestured around the office. "You'll like Detroit. I'll take you to a Tigers game, sometime. Great baseball team. You like baseball? I hear it's big in Japan."

The man was talking a lot, and Shinji mumbled. "It's…okay-"

"It's been a long flight," Hunter said, coming to the boy's rescue. "We should probably get him settled in, so he can talk to his family. Let them know he made it safe."

"Oh, right. That's fine, that's fine. We'll talk later. Good to meet you, Shinji-boy." Shinji waved shyly, and felt greatly relieved as Hunter shooed him out of the office. It felt comforting that Hunter was there…but he was the only thing of comfort Shinji had, and he had only known the man for a short while. He felt alone, and isolated.

He wanted to go home. Shinji wanted to go home.


	34. Family Matters

**Notes from** GobHobblin: So, review made me think of Adam bursting through a window into a group of MJ12 agents while screaming his name. 'Bring it on, motherlickers!' he would say, then he would rip off his own arm and proceed to beat them all down it. Then he would dance. And it would be glorious.

* * *

**May 12, 2025 - Akbar the Great Medical Facility, North Indonesian Refuge Zone**

1LT Misato Katsuragi grimaced as she sat up in the hospital bed. Her stomach felt numb, except when she moved. Then, the sensitive tissue around the wound would tug and ache. She felt the sutures in her body tug and yank as she sat up, and knew that any nurses present would scream at her for doing so. She didn't care; she had been on her back for too long, and she wanted up.

Normally, she shouldn't even _be_ in a hospital bed. Given sufficient advances in medical technology, they could have opened her up, stitched a dead rat into her, and she would be able to be moving and grooving soon enough. Well, maybe not _that_ drastic a turnover, but still, major injuries were not so grievous these days that they required intensive care like this. Organ swapping, on the other hand, did. There had to be long observation periods to ensure that the artificial organs were not rejected by the body, that they had mated into the system and were not considered foreign objects.

She had lost a long, and that had been replaced. So had her kidneys, her liver…her heart. It was amazing that she had survived _that_ injury long enough to be moved into a hospital for surgery. According to the nurse who had debriefed her following the injuries, the Indonesian medic who had gotten to her first had actually massaged her heart with his bare hands for the length of time it took for medevac to arrive, and the American medic on _that_ helicopter had taken over from there. She had felt squeamish thinking about it, the idea that someone had inserted their hands…into her…

Misato shuddered. God…what would _Mom_ think? Misato knew she would never tell her the gory details, but Mom was one of the top brilliant minds in Japan. Of course she would find out. And only two years in.

It had only taken two years as a Platoon Leader before she had been injured, and the crying shame was that it wasn't even the Others that had done it. They had plenty of engagements with the aliens, and she and her boys had put plenty into the dirt. She was a model officer, with a rising star in the military. And now, she was lying in a hospital, thanks to the Liberation Army of the Prophet, one of several dozen 'armies' that had cropped up in the evacuation. The whole human situation was a hodgepodge of vague nationalist, or religious, or economic grievance focus-groups, and this one had hit her convoy with Soviet-generation RPGs and rifles. Even vehicles designed to fight the Others were still just vehicles, and all things considered, she should have been dead. The rocket that had taken out her vehicle had struck the windshield in front of her. She was amazed she still had a face, much less anything else. As it was, the explosion had been much like a great shotgun blast, a cloud of shrapnel smashing into her torso. From there…images…smoke…shadow…clean sheets.

She fumbled to the table on her right. A tablet had been left there for her use, but she wasn't meant to handle it alone. She was supposed to ask for assistance, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to see anybody right now. Well…almost anybody. She toyed with the tablet, made an Internet connection…cued an icon…ring-ring…

Ritsuko's face appeared on the screen. "Mushi-mu…Misato!" Her friend's expression dropped. "What are you _doing_?"

"Calling you. Save me from boredom," she said with a smile.

"You should be resting, you silly idiot!" Ritsuko snapped.

"I _am_ resting, and I'm bored," Misato complained.

"And injured!" Ritsuko complained. "Why are you even calling right now?"

"Just…distract me. Are you working with your mom yet?"

"No, not yet," Ritsuko said snappishly. "And don't you start pushing. I have plenty on my plate without _you _making puppy-dog eyes about me going to work for Nerv."

"Are you?" Misato asked. She had been wheedling Ritsuko over this for some time.

"If I am, I'm not telling _you_," Ritsuko said snidely. "You're an invalid. That means all you can do is gossip right now."

"Spoilsport," Misato complained.

"I'm hanging up, Misato," Ritsuko said. "Call me in a week, when you're actually _allowed_ to make calls on your own."

"Don't go acting like a mom-" Miato began when the link cut. "Oh, my _God_," she grated, then winced. The tension hurt. Fine. If Ritusko didn't want to talk, she would find someone who would. She dialed another link.

A haggard face came on the screen. "Do you have any concept of time?" Hunter Vaas complained.

"How's Shinji?" she asked, evading the question.

"I don't know, want me to wake him up and ask?" he grumped.

"Don't be rude, little boy," she said curtly. "I'm just asking how he is."

"Sleeping. Like a baby. It's a wonderful sensation, one of my favorite activities," he said dryly.

"Quit complaining, you know you love seeing me," Misato teased. Hunter blinked slowly and liked a lizard, less than amused. His friendship with Misato had been brief, but honest and strong off the bat. Misato's frequent checks on Shinji had allowed the two to gradually acquaint, especially as it was sometimes difficult for Shinji himself to get to a phone when Misato wanted an immediate update. They had gotten to the point now where they treated each other as mutual confidants.

"I do, when the time is appropriate. It is not right now…because I was asleep. And you woke me up. Are you still in the hospital?"

"No. Maybe." She sighed. "Yes, and I'm bored."

"Stop talking to me. You're an invalid, be an invalid and stop harassing people while you still risk opening like a pinata if you laugh too hard."

"You're no fun," she sighed. "Fine. I'll let you go back to sleep, you loser. Let me know how my boy is doing, kay?"

"Stop playing around on the tablet and go to sleep," Hunter snapped, and cut the link. Misato mumbled to herself, thinking of who else to call when the door to her room opened. A brown-skinned military nurse wearing a hijab entered.

"Did you think you'd be able to start making calls and we wouldn't know?" the woman chided.

"I wasn't making calls. I don't know what you were talking about," Misato said, the tablet still blatantly on her lap. The nurse crossed the room and took the tablet. There was a brief tugging match over it, before Misato relinquished it with a huff.

"You have a visitor," the nurse said. "So you won't be needing it." She left…and Gendo Ikari entered.

"Dad!" Misato said in surprise. It had been odd, for a time, to refer to Gendo Ikari as 'Dad,' mostly because she didn't want to forget her own father. To act like a poor daughter by accepting another man as 'father,' but Gendo had filled in the role nicely. Still…she hadn't expected a _visit_ from him.

"Hello, Misa," he said, crossing the room to give her a peck on the forehead. "Just got in."

"It's good to see you," she said, "But…well…" She folded her hands on her lap. "I didn't really _want_ you guys to see me."

"You got messed up but good, Misa," he said, sitting next to her bed.

"Needs of the service," she said coyly, "It's not so bad, really. I don't even remember anything."

"I've read about it. Harrowing doesn't even begin to cover it," he said. She winced.

"Mom didn't-"

"She did, and don't think I didn't try to stop her. She's become a bit more bullheaded without Shinji at home," Gendo said. Misato sighed.

"Did she freak out?"

"What do you think?"

"She freaked out."

"Like you wouldn't imagine. She's demanded I pull every string I can to get you home," Gendo admitted. Misato shook her head.

"Don't do that. I'm hurt, but I'm still capable. I still have service to provide," she said quickly. Gendo shifted in his seat.

"I told her I wouldn't. She threw a plate at me." Misato stared at him in shock. She had known Yui to be forceful in her opinions, but never abusive. Things must have really gone to pot since she left. Gendo smiled gently. "Don't worry, I didn't take it personally. She's had a terrible few years, you know. Sometimes being patient is all you can do."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Misato mumbled. Gendo shook his head.

"I shouldn't have mentioned it. Our marriage isn't in trouble, if that's what you're wondering. Your mom has just had…a rough patch. A few, really." Misato nodded, thinking about Kyoko's passing away…the terrorist incident before that…Shinji leaving home…it was a rough series of blows for the family. "I did tell her I would talk to you about it, though."

"I already have my answer, Dad," Misato said quietly. "I'm staying in."

"Just…humor me a second, okay?" he asked. She sighed, and crossed her arms. She regretted doing that, and uncrossed them. Her torso continued to protest the action. She nodded for him to continue, tight-lipped and queasy against the pain. "Okay…if you want to stay in, that's fine. Perhaps, however, you would like a transfer of post to something that's more focused on the war effort. Something…more critical."

"This is critical," she said. "My platoon is critical."

"It is," Gendo said. "But so is the Evangelion Project." Misato quirked an eyebrow.

"The Evangelion Project? What are you talking about?"

"Nerv has broken with Gehirn in all but name and funding," Gendo said, and Misato's jaw dropped. He smiled. "You didn't hear about that, by the way. It's being kept a secret, for the time being, but it's happening. There's going to be some nasty political infighting when all this is done, but Gehirn will probably try and cut our funding. The Americans, the British, the Canadians, our own country…a few more. They'll support us, fund us. The private sector will probably jump in, as well, but things will get rough. We will hang on to a good chunk of our Security apparatus, but we will need assistance. The JSDF and JEDF will be seconding officers and personnel to us, and I could make a request…that you are among those to join us. What do you think?"

Misato looked down, unsure of what to say. "What…what would I be doing? Assuming I said yes?"

"Director of Operations for the Evangelion Project, which would carry an automatic promotion to Captain." Misato made a sound of surprise.

"I'm…not really _qualified_ for that. And there's a lot more to being a Captain than just an…automatic…"

"Guess what?" Gendo said, smiling gently. "_No one_ is qualified. We've never utilized these things before, haven't even been able to get them to work yet. Once we do get them working, we don't even know what they _can_ do…only that they are _supposed_ to utilize the abilities of the Others to an incalculable degree. A lot of people in the military would see this as a step down, considering it only carries a small staff at the moment. A small staff and three weapons that don't work."

"Doesn't sound appealing," Misato mumbled.

"You'd be home with us, with a double-paycheck…one from Nerv, and one from the military. Bit of a chance to recuperate, and it's not taking you out of the fight. You can always transfer back to a front-line position, we won't block you…but if…_when_…we get the Evas up and working…where do you think the front-line will be then?"

Misato looked down at her lap. "Hmm…" she mused. "I'll…I'll think about it, okay?"

"Okay." Gendo stood up. "I'll be here for two days, okay? I've had all my appointments cleared so we can spend some time together. I'll let you rest now."

"Thanks for coming, Dad," she said. He smiled gently, and left. Misato watched him go, and pondered. It was all she could do, at the moment.

* * *

Yui was bouncing on her feet as Naoko inserted a small syringe into Momo's arm. The girl whimpered a bit, but didn't complain otherwise as a small vial of blood was drawn.

"I don't like this," Yui murmured.

"You're making them nervous," Naoko said, withdrawing the needle and wiping the prick. She placed a band-aid over the jab, and nuzzled Momo's forehead affectionately with one of her knuckles. "Your mommy's a worry-wart." Momo smiled shyly, and slipped back under the surface of the LCL. They had a new tank that Kozo had called the Hamster Habitat (if only to annoy Yui), a series of tubes, chambers, and rooms that gave the girls a little more variety in their environment. Naoko put the vial onto a case, scribbled on a pad, and touched a stud near the access port. "Kimu, it's your turn."

"I don't like this," Yui said again. Naoko sighed.

"Yui, we've agreed that our best bet of making Unit-01 and Unit-02 work is finding a way to activate 00 and make _it_ work." Yui shrugged, but didn't vocally agree. Things had been tense on that front, and not only because 01 was still obsessing over her son. Kyoko had been trying…trying _desperately_…to synchronize with any pilot they inserted. She couldn't. She tried, she tried, but she couldn't. She was ashamed of herself, humiliated…becoming withdrawn, and pensive. Yui felt bad for her, and did what she could to assure her, but it was what it was. They had two Evas, and no use from them. This was their last chance.

Kimu surfaced, and looked happily at Naoko and Yui. "Hi, Mama," she said, "Hi, Dr. Akagi!" She was always cheerful, and always happy for attention. "Another needle?"

"Sorry, hon, another one. Blood sample," Naoko said. The girls were familiar with needles in all shapes and forms. It was just part of their lives, like the LCL and closed chambers. Kimu made a face, but didn't complain otherwise.

"Just the one?" she asked. "Then I can go watch cartoons?"

"Of course, hon. Left arm, please," Naoko asked, and the girl raised her arm. Naoko drew the blood, and as she did, Kimu looked and beamed.

"Hi, Rei!" she called. "Are you coming in today?"

"Hi, Kimu," Rei said, having come in quietly and unnoticed. She had become a real moper these days, and Yui felt bad immediately. Part of that was her fault…she had become short-tempered and distant for the past year or so. "I don't know." Yui slipped over to the girl and stroked her hair. Rei leaned into her, always happy for attention.

"Have you talked to Shinji?" Kimu asked. "Sakura and Kei miss him."

"I thought you _all_ missed him," Naoko teased, cleaning the prick mark.

"We do, but Sakura and Kei keep complaining," Kimu said.

"No," Rei said, slipping into the conversation. "He's been busy with a school project. The last time I talked to him, though, he wanted to talk all of you. He misses us." Yui rubbed Rei's back as she said that.

"Tell him to call us more. He's a jerk when he doesn't," Kimu snapped. "Can I go now?"

"You can go, Momo," Naoko said. The girl slipped under the LCL, and Naoko hit the button for the last one. "Aya, you're the last one. Come on up." The girl came up, gave her blood, and went on her way with a snuffle: she was a delicate soul among the girls, and hated needles. She put on a brave face for Mama, though…most likely, the other girls were teasing her again. She'd have to have a talk.

"And Rei, while you're here," Naoko said, and Rei sighed.

"I don't like needles," she said.

"I know, sweet pea, but all your sisters did," Naoko wheedled. Rei squirmed, and then offered her arm. She made a face when the needle punched through. Naoko cleaned the blood away, but didn't put a band-aid over the cut…it was already healed by the time she turned back to it.

"I'm gonna take her for a walk," Yui said. "Need me for anything else?"

"Besides frightening your daughters? Nope. Dr. Fuyutsuki is back in fifteen minutes, he'll give me a hand," Naoko said. "Shoo with you." Yui took Rei's hand, and walked her out of the entry chamber. She was old to be holding hands, but Yui had never felt the need to discourage her. It felt nice to her, as well.

"You're moping," she said, accusingly.

"You've been unhappy, Mama," the girl replied.

"Yeah," Yui said, "I have been."

"You and Daddy aren't…" She stopped, looking down.

"Aren't what?" Yui asked, concerned.

"Is Daddy coming back?" Aw. The plate. Yui hadn't been thinking, had been upset and hurt and frightened by Misato's injury report, and she had demanded Gendo do something about it. He had dug in, and looking back, he was right to do so. Yui _knew_ that…and she still threw the plate. Rei was asleep…or at least she thought the girl had been asleep.

"He went to visit Misa," Yui said. "He'll be back."

"You still love him, right?" Rei asked.

"I do," Yui said. "I was just mad. I was mad, and I did a stupid thing. Sometimes we do stupid things to the people we love when we're mad."

"You weren't mad at Shinji, though, right?" Rei had been stuck on that like a broken record. She was still trying to process it.

"I've never been mad at Shinji," Yui said, turning a corner. She was leading Rei towards the parking garage…she felt the urge for ice cream, and she was going to take her landlubber mermaid for ice-cream. "You know that."

"I miss him."

"I miss him, too, love. Want some ice-cream?"

"…Yes." Mother and daughter continued in silence, both feeling lost, but not so lost as they were a moment ago.


	35. Time and Time

**Notes from GobHobblin:** The 'massaging the heart' thing is an actual last-ditch first aid technique. A good friend of mine has a brother who is a combat medic. He did this to a young soldier who had received massive chest trauma, and kept the boy alive until a medevac helicopter arrived. Unfortunately, that story did not have an ending as happy as Misato's. It is one of those things done when death is literally the only other option.

* * *

**September 17, 2026 - Tannhauser Tower, Frankfurt, Germany**

The boy squirmed, his brow furrowing in rising panic. "Not today…please?"

"Come here, Kaworu," the man said, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his lab coat. Two Seele Sec men stood slightly behind him, dressed in khaki trousers and white polos that strained at their bulging muscles. Everything about them screamed mercenary, and that was more often true than not with Seele Sec. The boy looked at them, then back to Kihl. The man's face was a mask of indulged amusement, as though amused by the boy's hesitation…the way a father would be amused by a child's despair at their first haircut.

"Please?" the boy whimpered.

"Go on, Kaworu. Don't make Dr. Grahl ask his assistants to help." The boy trembled, looking as if he would about to cry. Lowering his head until his blue hair draped over his red eyes, and turned slowly. Trembling like a leaf, he made a slow path towards Dr. Grahl, and passed between the two large Sec men. They both laid a hand on his shoulders, and gently but firmly propelled him towards the door, speeding him along. Grahl followed at pace.

Renee Dutroux, the French Representative-in-Chief to Seele and the occupant of Chair Number 3 on the Seele Directory Council, watched the antics with a bemused expression. When the door closed behind the small party, he turned to Kihl. "So…" he murmured, "Why Kaworu?"

"Hmm?" Kihl was distracted, and he turned as though waking up. Dutroux blinked his empty eyes like a lizard.

"Why Kaworu? Specifically, Kaworu Nagisa?"

"Kaworu means 'incense,'" the German explained. "It sounded like a charming name, so I decided that his name should be Kaworu. Nagisa is formed from the characters for 'shi' and 'sha,' forming the word 'shisha.' That means 'messenger,' and I intend to send some messages with this boy."

"I would ask, then, why _Japanese_? And I would further ask…why ten years old? That's a very…_specific_ age." There was no answer, and there was no need for there to be. It was clear what the purpose of the boy was for, in light of the ugly split between Gehirn-now-Seele and Nerv. It was a message, aimed at a very particular person and his team. Dutroux thought it a petty action, and it probably was. Even Kihl could be petty.

Kihl, of course, dodged the question. "Amazing, isn't it? All highly illegal, of course, but the growing period was not difficult. You could grow a physically aged geriatric freshly hatched with the resources and the know-how." Kihl seemed exceptionally pleased with himself, and Dutroux noted that he probably should be: the Kaworu child was physically ten. Through an intensive psychotropic drug regimen, sleep learning, and behavioral programming, he had roughly the knowledge and maturity of a five or six year old. And he had not yet celebrated his first birthday.

Hell, he hadn't even made it to six months, yet. Kaworu was a modern medical marvel…and, as Kihl so eloquently intimated, highly illegal. The methods used to produce him, aside from being outlandishly expensive, were conducted using stolen research and stolen samples, obtained via a terrorist action. Nerv had very narrowly avoided an international incident in the creation of Rei, her siblings, and the Evangelions, but the way in which Kaworu had been created violated every conceivable law and precedent in genetic engineering and cloning. Further, the method used to 'age' him mentally existed only in the intelligence community, for two purposes: the creation of sleeper agents, or the extraction of information from unwilling subjects. And the only intelligence communities that practiced _those_ techniques were ones in countries with already questionable records in regards to human rights. If anybody found out how Kihl had educated Kaworu, he could be charged with anything and everything from abuse of a child to major crimes against humanity.

Kihl never fretted about the small details, however. That was a trivial concern, for trivial men.

"You should see his sibling," Kihl said, smiling. "_That_ will be something to behold."

"Our President should be something to behold," Dutroux murmured, "We weren't able to win this one."

"Ah, yes…Ms. Lemet. Our modern Madame de Pompadour." Kihl turned a cold eye towards Dutroux. Dutroux stared back blandly; none of the Seele Chairs had quite the same fear of Kihl as other men did. He was a great man, yes…but only a man. All men died, eventually.

"We still have a slim majority in the National Assembly, but she has the support of Piaf," Dutroux said.

"And what does Piaf have!?" The sudden rage in Kihl made Dutroux's eyes open a fraction wider, and reminded the Frenchman why he did, in a small part of his soul, still fear Kihl. He was unpredictable. "Didn't we ruin him?" the German continued, "What does he have left after the Paris Incursion? What? We spent a fortune annihilating his career."

"Charisma is it's own fortune, and Piaf was very popular. Is _still_ very popular, and his alliance may win a majority back in the Assembly, whatever we do. You can only commit so much strong-arming before it's not subtle anymore. People are getting wise to you, Kihl…you've moved too hard and too strongly, and now we may pay the price for that."

"What price?" Kihl laughed, "Gendo Ikari was going to wander off on his own eventually, and he's playing a game he knows nothing about. What does he have? Sarif? The man's a dilettante, playing with his cybernetics and robots. The Evas? Lilith's cells? _That's_ where the future is, Dutroux. Everything else is meaningless."

"The Council doesn't think so, Kihl. You're gonna have to convince us of that, you understand?"

Kihl smiled, and Dutroux noted idly that it was a most predatory expression. "Persuasion is one my skills," Kihl whispered, almost lovingly.

* * *

"I really don't want to go back to school," Shinji mumbled from the back of the car. Hunter nodded sympathetically, sitting in the driver seat wearing dark sunglasses, doing his best 'hulking bodyguard' routine. Being a slight Afrikaaner somewhat muted the effect, but he still looked intimidating when he wanted to.

"Well, sorry, bru, but that's where you're going," Hunter said bluntly. "Back to books, and learning, and…books. All that."

"Can't I be home-schooled? David has enough money to send me to a fancy prep school, can't he just…hire a tutor?"

"Shinji, we talked about this. School is about more than just learning math and history and all that, it's about socializing. Learning how to deal with the rest of the human race, learning about yourself. Learning how to be a human among humans, and all that."

"Why do I have to learn around a bunch of assholes?" Shinji whined.

"Hey, whoa! Where'd you pick up that word?" Hunter snapped.

"From you, when you watch Fight Night on Thursdays," Shinji snapped right back.

"Damn straight you did!" Hunter beamed. "Just put that on the DL, bru, that might make those 'friends' of yours get a little too friendly, know what I'm saying?"

"Yes, Hunter," Shinji sighed, exasperated. He picked at his tie, and squirmed in his blazer. "I still don't want to go back to school."

* * *

Hunter lounged on the couch, drinking a beer as Paz de la Rosa choked out Oscar Macintosh on pay-per-view. One bare foot was plopped up on the coffee table, and his hand rested on a bowl of buffalo popcorn. Shinji sat on the other end of the couch, straight and still, with his fingers interlocked in his lap. One eye was swollen shut, and he snuffled from sinuses abused by a good pop to the nose. He also had a small cut over his left eye.

Miserably, he glanced at Hunter. The man sipped his beer casually.

"Are you going to tell Mom?" Shinji asked.

"Hell no," Hunter said. Shinji looked down.

"What about my dad?"

"I already did. _He_ can tell your mom."

Shinji winced. "You're mad, right?"

"Yep." Shinji let out a great heaving sigh. First day of school, and already suspended a week for fighting. To be fair, it wasn't really a fight so much as a spectacle, which began with Shinji being thrashed and ended with him being dragged sobbing off of the boy who started it. He didn't really know how to punch, so he had settled for trying to pull the kid's face off. Hunter had left him for only a moment; it happened occasionally, during the day. He couldn't be there at all times, of course, and part of his job required him to be invisible a certain percentage of the time.

Which meant that Shinji would get bullied. There was not much to actively do about that, except involve the teachers, which Hunter did. Bullying still happened, but Hunter was forbidden from actually touching other students except in a life threatening situation. None had arisen yet. The fight was a first, though.

"I wish you didn't," Shinji whimpered.

"You don't want to deal with the leftovers, bru, don't cook the recipe," Hunter said, wincing at the television. A new fight had begun between two fighters he had never heard of before, and one of them had decided offering his back was a winning strategy. It wasn't at all…but the fighter offered it every opportunity he got. "Come on!" Hunter finally snapped, "The ref ain't gonna help you, help yourself, you human paraquat!"

Shinji watched the fight, and looked at his hands. "What's it like…to fight?"

Hunter looked at the boy in confusion. "Huh? Shinji, you were _in_ a fight, why are you asking me that?"

"It didn't feel like a fight. It felt…messed up."

"Well, there you go. It feels messed up," Hunter said.

The boy jerked a chin towards the television. "Then why do you watch this? Why is it fun to you?"

"This? This _is_ fun, but it's not _fighting_. Not like what you did," Hunter said. "This is sport. That last fight, where de la Rosa tried to pull Macintosh's head off? Those guys are friends. They trained together two years ago. What you did was about anger, and fear, and maybe a teensy bit of hate."

"It felt messed up," Shinji repeated.

Hunter finally looked at the kid, and soaked in some of his misery. "All right, look, bru, don't dwell on it." He slid the popcorn over, and Shinji tentatively took a kernel. "You got in a fight, you got some licks, and you gave some of your own. You made a big scene about it, and now what? You gonna dwell on it?"

"Yes?"

Hunter flicked Shinji's ear, and the boy squirmed away from it. "No, you won't. You'll let it go, and move on with life. Learned a lesson, right?"

"What…what was the lesson?" Shinji asked.

The Afrikaaner shrugged. "Damned if I know." Shinji gave him a baleful look, and Hunter laughed. "Here, I'll give you a lesson: you weren't wrong to fight that kid." Shinji looked confused.

"But…I'm in trouble."

"Yes, yes, you are, because there is a time, a place, and a _way_ to handle things. It doesn't mean that fighting him was wrong…just that maybe the time and the reason was. Don't worry if that doesn't make sense. Just think about that for a bit, okay?" Hunter looked back, sneering at the television. "Buffalo popcorn is fine, but buffalo wings are better. Want some?"

"I don't like spicy food," Shinji said meekly.

"No spicy wings. Mild ones. Deal?" Hunter held up his fist. Shinji smiled slightly, and thumped it meekly.

"I'm still in trouble, right?"

"Hell yes," Hunter said, and they both smiled.

* * *

Two days went by when there was a knock at the apartment door. Shinji tensed at the table where he was working on his schoolwork. Hunter lowered his magazine, glancing at the door. He stood up and drew his pistol, and pointed at Shinji. They had practiced this drill repeatedly, and Shinji stood up and moved closer to the side of the apartment where the panic room was. Hunter moved up to the door, and glanced through the screen. Relaxing, he holstered the pistol and opened the door.

"'Lo, Misato," he said through a grin. Shinji blinked in surprise, then bolted towards the door, giddy. Sure enough, the violet haired woman was in the hall, looking sharp in stylish American clothes of burgundy and red. Hunter slid back as Shinji enthusiastically went through the door and nearly tackled his sister.

"Oh, God!" Misato gasped, in mixture of surprise, pleasure, and not a little discomfort as the boy collided. "It's good to see you, Shinji," she gasped, "But be gentle, please." It was hard to detach him, but she managed. They had been close as he grew up, and remained close through video calls. Still, this was the first time in too long he had been in the same room with her, and she was fighting the urge to pick him up. He was far too old for that, but old habits died hard.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, backing up.

"Getting an upgrade courtesy of Sarif Industries," she said, rubbing her belly. "They closed me up about an hour ago, so please be gentle." Those with internal cybernetics had to have a way for organ technicians to access them for maintenance and upgrades, which usually meant a strip of 'scar tissue' that was artificial and carried no blood vessels. It was painless, and easy to open: Misato was actually awake during the five hour procedure. It didn't mean it was very comfortable when it was closed up and 'healing,' though. Which meant glomps from siblings were off the table for the moment. "I had to stop by and see my two favorite boys!" She looked at Hunter. "And scold you for not keeping Shinji out of trouble." She gave him a dirty look, and he squinted with an incredulous expression.

"Don't throw that on me," he said.

"You're his bodyguard, you're not doing a very good job. Look at his face!" Shinji's eye now sported a large purple bruise, and the only reason Misato had not been surprised by it was because news traveled fast among the women of the family.

"He got in a fight, kids get in fights," Hunter protested. "That's what happens."

"Bodyguards protect their principles, and when the principle is a kid, he shouldn't _be_ in a fight," Misato said peevishly.

"Don't call me out on this. You know nothing of these things. You're knowledge is weak and inadequate compared to mine on this topic," Hunter replied in a tart tone of voice.

"You suck at your job," she countered.

"Come at me. Come at me, right now. I'll take you down," Hunter said nonchalantly.

"She'd beat you up," Shinji said. The Afrikaaner glanced at Shinji with a look of disbelief in his eyes.

"No, she wouldn't," Hunter countered.

"I would," Misato said.

"She would," Shinji agreed. Hunter mumbled for a moment, putting his hands on his hips and retreating from the argument.

"Stop moping and take us out to lunch, bodyguard," Misato teased. "I want to spend the day with my little brother."

"Technically, he's at school," Hunter pointed out, gesturing to the table stacked with books. Misato shrugged.

"Then he can play hooky. Puh-leeze, I have to be back in Japan tonight."

"Come on, Hunter, it's just lunch," Shinji protested. Hunter eyed the boy, then Misato.

"You're both doing this just so I have to pay for lunch," he grumbled, walking towards the door and pushing past them. Misato winked at Shinji, and he grinned at her. She ruffled his hair and pushed him into the hall, looking forward to lunch with her little brother. A meeting, she thought, that had been long overdue.

* * *

Gendo slowly entered the bedroom. The lights were out, but he could see Yui sitting on the bed. She had started to undress, but had entered into a daze, and sat down on the bed without finishing. Her slacks hung loose on her ankles, her shirt lay on the floor where it was dropped, and her arms were draped at her sides as she stared at the wall. Gendo sat quietly behind her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something…and didn't. He didn't know what to say.

"I want to die," Yui said flatly.

"No, you don't," Gendo whispered, a tone of hurt in his voice. And yet, he understood exactly why she felt the way she did. Naoko and Yui had performed a whirlwind of work with the girls' samples. It had been difficult, but Naoko felt she had cornered whatever it was that gave them their 'spark,' and repeated the cellular process with Unit-00. Today, the Unit had come alive. A Pilot candidate that had been on stand-by for such an occasion attempted synchronization, only to fail. So…they asked. They asked Unit-00 what the problem was, expecting gibberish as the Unit was essentially an infant. That would have been lucky.

Instead, they got the name Rei, repeated over and over in a three-line sequence.

Yui had left after that without saying a word. When Gendo had learned, he knew where she had gone, and had hurried home and now here he was. He tried to think of the things he could say to comfort her, the things she needed to hear…and he couldn't. This was beyond him now.

His wife noted his silence. "How can you…be so calm?" Yui whispered. "They want…they want our _children_."

Gendo didn't know. He didn't know why he _acted_ calm, because what he felt was turmoil. He agreed with Yui: it was unfair. And horrible. The worst of outcomes…and yet he was calm. He was always calm. What was it that allowed him to detach that way? He didn't know, but he looped an arm around Yui. She nestled her head into the crook, her hands rising up and resting possessively on his bicep.

"We can work with Kyoko," Gendo said. "We still have a chance with her."

"She's trying, Gendo," Yui said, her voice distant. "She's trying so hard."

"And we will, too," Gendo whispered. They sat in quiet for a bit, and then Yui murmured.

"What?" Gendo asked.

"Misato had lunch with Shinji today," Yui whispered.

"Did she?" Gendo asked.

"Yeah…they said it was nice. She wanted me to tell Richter his son is doing okay."

"How's Shinji's little…you know?"

"He's got a big purple bruise on his eye now," Yui said, and Gendo heard a wink of a smile in her voice. "Teaches him to pick fights."

"You want your boy to be a gentle soul, don't you?"

"As gentle as they come," Yui mumbled, and nestled backwards. Gendo pondered that, and opened his mouth to say more…but she had drifted into sleep. He sighed, and let her rest.


	36. Mass

**January 15, 2027 - Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3**

"This is it," Yui mumbled, her stomach twisting with a nest of butterflies. "This is it."

They sat in Gendo's office, sharing a private lunch over the scattered contents of a sealed envelope that had been hand delivered by a military courier. Photographs lay across the table, detailing an object that had been discovered inside a cave in Afghanistan. It was non-terrestrial, defied normal analysis techniques, and seemed to have lettering on it. It was too unlikely to be discovering evidence of extraterrestrials now (in the _traditional_ sense), so the only thing it pointed to without a doubt was the Others. Yui's assessment pretty much confirmed it; it was Other in origin.

"It's what Lilith showed you?" Gendo asked. Yui shrugged; it wasn't like Lilith had _shown_ her anything, but this was ringing all the right bells.

"It's why we built the Evas," Yui explained. "This is what we were meant to protect." She was staring at the photograph, the vaguely pyramidal object displayed in the center with an American soldier and a Pashto fighter flanking it for scale.

"Well…what is it?" her husband asked.

"I don't _know_, except that it's what they're looking for," Yui said.

"They?"

"Whoever opened the portals," Yui explained. She shrugged, her train of thought leaving. "I wish I could say more, but those places are so disorganized. I don't know if it was an accident, or if Lilith intentionally kept things from me, but…it's blank in areas." She rubbed her scalp. "Can this be brought to Japan?"

"Unfortunately, no," Gendo said. "What you see is just the tip: it extends downward for an uncertain distance. It's rooted, and we can't pull it free." Yui sighed, rubbing her face.

"That means we're out of position," she said miserably. "This is, what, in Afghanistan?" She shook her head. "The Evas need to be there, not here. This isn't good. This isn't good at all."

Gendo nodded. "What you're saying is that, somehow, we need to obtain the property around this object, build a whole _new_ Evangelion Center and fortification right on top of it, and do so quickly. Not to mention load it with enough troops and support personnel to ensure the success of the effort, right next door to Iran."

"Well, when you put it _that_ way…"

"No, you're right, it's what we need to do…it's just…" Gendo shrugged. He toyed with his lunch, and glanced over at Yui. "We need pressure."

"Between China, Russia, and Seele, I don't see how," Yui said miserably.

"We have the North American countries, most of ASEAN behind us. Great Britain is in, France might be in…it's hard to tell. I think we can get support from Afghanistan itself, though it'll be hard, but they generally do what the US says and complain about it later. The Council of General's have been eager to boot them out for a long time." He leaned back in his chair, thinking. "The Pan-Arab Republic might be a good bet…"

"The Pan-Arabs? Can we trust them?" Yui asked. That newer country had a certain jingoistic attitude in the Middle East, tampered only by an aggressive and paranoid Israel and an equally aggressive and paranoid Iran.

"Why not? They're neutral. It means we can't necessarily _dis_trust them either. They're up in the air." Yui thought to some of the men and women she had met from that country. To a tee, the women had been likable, witty, intelligent…the best products of a life spent proving oneself constantly against their gender. The men were hit or miss…some were charming and debonair, and others had barely tolerated her presence. And then there were the 'actors,' as she liked to call them. In her profession as a scientist, she had often bumped into many 'boys only' clubs, and the men there had treated her with polite tolerance. It was unseemly to be a mysognist in this day and age, and yet they couldn't eliminate their basic discomfort regarding a strong woman who was frequently smarter than the lot of them. The Arabs tended to have their own twist on that variant, looking at her as they would an especially impressive performing animal, or a beautiful mare. Something that deserved respect and admiration, but was merely an animal in the end.

This had much to do with the peculiar nature of the Pan-Arab Republic's history. It was one of the youngest countries on the map, encompassing the whole of the former countries of Saudi Arabia, Syria, Jordan, and the other smaller Arab countries with the exception of the United Arab Emirates in the east and Lebanon in the west. The movement had been led by a coalition of Western-leaning intellectuals and rabid, reactionary religionists, both unified in their dislike of Baathists and the ruling families that possessed, rather than led, their countries. Willing to overlook their general disdain and outright hatred for each other, the groups were able to work together to foment revolution and change throughout their countries.

In the end, against the general pattern of such things, the intellectuals won, expecting and planning for the eventual push by the conservatives. Even though large portions of their joint populations were religious, rural, and reactionary, sizable enough portions existed that wanted a modern, strong, and prosperous Arab state, and not necessarily an Islamic one…or at least, an Islamic state that wished to engage with the world, and not dominate or retreat from it.

The results, it could be said, were mixed.

"The Pashtun and Hazarah hate Arabs, but they're far more willing to work with fellow Muslims than Westerners," Gendo pointed out, "Or Oriental heathens." He gave a wry smile, and Yui shrugged.

"Do you have any contacts that could be of assistance?" Yui asked. Gendo nodded.

"I met Dr. Ibn al-Wazzi at a special summit held in Geneva three years ago. We had a generally good vibe in regards to each other."

"Isn't he a polygamist?" Yui asked, seeming to recall the name.

"Not this one, but I know the one you're thinking of," Gendo said. "I actually know one of his wives." According to some interpretations of Islam, it was acceptable for a man to marry up to four wives, provided he could support those wives. That stipulation still existed in the modern Pan-Arab Republic (with a much heavier set of legal actions and support on the side of women as a consolation to balance the arrangement).

"Where did you meet his wife?" Yui asked, leaning back in curious disdain.

"Same summit," Gendo said with a half-smile. "She was one of the keynote speakers. Remember? I mentioned it to you because I thought it amusing that there were two Dr. Ibn al-Wazzi's. We all talked with each other over that particularly amusement."

"Huh…" she said, surprised. "What was her name?"

"Dr. Fatima Zaid…she worked under her maiden name. Let's see: she is a chemist…two of her fellow wives are botanists, they actually work together, and the fourth one essentially manages the household."

"What does Dr. Ibn-Wazzi do with himself during all this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She was skeptical of plural marriages as a matter of principle, regardless of which sex was the plural.

"He's a neurosurgeon," Gendo said. "_Our_ Ibn-Wazzi is one of the key leader's in the Parliamentary coalition that is running the Republic right now."

"What's his doctorate in?"

"He was a children's pediatrician."

"Any wives there?"

"Celibate."

"Hmm. I guess that evens it out," Yui mumbled. "What'll Iran think?"

"They'll be furious, of course. They'll say it's a military installation being constructed for a first-strike staging point into their territory, of course, and Kihl will be all over that. Expect the Iranian military to grow exponentially under Seele support."

"These cloak-and-dagger games give me a headache," she mumbled. "We face extinction, and we still have to beg for influence and trick our way through these…parasites."

"It's the new world we live in," Gendo said. "First it was the soldiers who ran things, then the merchants, then the lawyers. Now it's the scientists."

"Really? _We're_ the ones running the world?" she said skeptically.

Gendo nodded sagely, and smiled. "Congratulations: you are the Empress of Asia. And tomorrow…the world!" She giggled, and shook her head.

"I don't know where you got an idea like that. As much as we have to network and beg and plead…"

"And all of that got us the Evangelion Center, a fully independent international body with a virtual blank check, and the Evangelions…our one hope against whatever is coming."

"And it _still_ feels like begging and pleading."

"That's essentially what networking is, I find. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Give me enough cash to fuel a small national economy, and I will protect you from the awful things in the darkness. Anything can be halted with the right amount of funding and brainpower. We have the brainpower, and we just have to convince them for the funding. If you see it that way, it's really quite simple. And what's more, _we're_ the ones who hold the power. We have the Evas, we have our collective brain trust, and we _know_ the Others. The smart leaders are the ones who recognize that, and will do what they can to curry favor."

"You sound so devious when you talk like that," Yui said, distant. "I don't know if I like it. Sometimes, it's hard to recognize you."

Gendo felt hurt by that, but he let it slide. She had a point, because he had changed a lot in order to do what was needed. It was the nature of the beast, and if you didn't at least attempt to ride it, you would be trampled beneath it.

"I'm no Kihl," he said gently, and she nodded. Her smile returned.

"I'm glad for that," she said. She sighed. "I wonder who'll be next."

"Next?"

"Think about it, you said that different groups at different times ran the world. It's the scientists in the limelight now. So who'll be next."

"Probably hibachi chefs," he said. Yui stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

"You don't want me to be honest right now, Gendo."

The sound of light conversation fluttered at the edges of Gendo's awareness, and it gave him something to focus on while allowing his irritation to drift up and away, This seminar could be going better...

"I do, in fact," he said, "Or I wouldn't have brought it up."

The Ambassador to Japan for the United States, His Excellency John Rhodes, shrugged. He wasn't really _supposed_ to be speaking the the Director of Japan's Nerv Branch on these matters, but Gendo Ikari was a direct individual. He was technically under the Japanese government, and was certainly a loyal Japanese citizen, but he was also a problem solver. Regardless of what potential appearance it might present, he tended to locate those who could help him solve his problems and either befriend or bedevil them until what he needed got done. Before this, he and Gendo were friendly acquaintances. Rhodes suspected they were about to enter the 'bedevil' phase.

"The President is for it," he said, "For many reasons, not the least of which is putting a big piece of juicy bait out in front of Iran and daring it to do something. You didn't hear that, of course."

"Of course, but I suspected. He tends to wear his opinions on his sleeve," Gendo noted.

Rhodes nodded. "That he does. The military is for it as well, if simply because it will quiet the Afghans down if they know the Evas are there. They think they can spin it just so that the presence of those devices will make the region quiet."

"Assuming anyone believes that, and we will not perform demonstrations. The Evas are not to be used on human beings, nor are they to be used to further the goals for any one nation or group of nations. That is not their purpose," Gendo said, a bit more hotly than he intended.

"I didn't say that, just what the military was thinking, at least Joint Chiefs. They can't always focus on the Others…there's always the next war and all that."

"If there's any humans left for there to _be_ another war."

"Gendo, relax and think on this for a moment. The Others have made random incursions here and there, they've made the Southern Hemisphere practically uninhabitable, but aside from the loss of resources and refugee influx…what? The First World is still doing pretty well for itself, and while we have our security cordons and military maneuvering and assaults, who do you think we've been watching through all of this?"

The scientist made a face, but said nothing more. To be fair, he couldn't be too judgmental. It was a soldier's job to prepare for war, even when in the midst of one already being fought. The world did not stop turning just because it had fallen off the table. Still, he wished they could be a little less blatant about it, especially in regards to the Evas. There was some doubt that they would live up to the promises of Yui Ikari, but those that knew Yui knew she never inflated the details. And if they were as truly terrible as she said they could be, then there was nothing on earth capable of standing against them. It was inevitable that there would be those desiring to use them to further their own national interests.

Rhodes continued: "The other side. The other players. Iran, Russia, China, Germany, it's been _busy_. That's the least of your concerns, though: the fact that the United States has been largely untouched, combined with the current situation on the globe, means that the President's party has broken with him on funding for Nerv."

Gendo blinked. He hadn't heard anything about that. "Explain," he said.

"The House and the Senate Budgetary Committees are tightening the purse. Nerv funding could be cut drastically, and more, there are leaders in the House that would certainly dig in their heels at the thought of _expanding_ our presence in Afghanistan. They've had the biggest love-hate relationship with that region for the past thirty years, and if they can shrink our presence, they would."

"You know that the Others will head to that site when they locate it, and who knows what will happen then? I have theories, and none of them are good."

"Theories?"

"Mass terraforming of this world into something truly inhospitable to human life, a kill switch for all non-Other based lifeforms…who knows? It's not good, I can tell you that much."

"I don't disagree, but it is what it is," Rhodes murmured. "Politics is like physics. It's all about mass; either change comes with time, or a greater mass collides. What we need right now is a collision."

"Be careful what you wish for," Gendo murmured, sipping his water.


	37. The Crease

**January 23, 2027 - Ikari Residence, Tokyo-3**

It was two in the morning when Gendo's cell phone began ringing. For some reason, it was on Yui's bedside table, and she mumbled in her sleep as Gendo sat up mechanically and reached across her. He gazed blearily at the number, and was surprised to see it was Misato.

"Misato?" he mumbled, his voice gravelly and low. "What are you doing up?"

"Turn on the television. Any news channel," she said tersely. He could hear movement behind her, voices and commands.

"Are you at NERV right now?" he asked, rolling over and looking for the remote. Yui whimpered, and opened her eyes.

"What's going on?" she grumbled. Gendo didn't leave, or encourage her to go back to sleep. If there was something Misato wanted him to see, Yui would need to see it, as well.

"I've been here for around thirty minutes," Misato said, "Do you have the TV on, yet?"

"Turning it on, now," Gendo said, and the wall obediently flickered awake at his command. He felt his sleepiness flee, and Yui stir beside him as she sat up, alarmed. What they saw was…indescribable.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, he was walking into the NERV command center. The images of the thing were posted up on the electronic boards layered around the room. It appeared to be a massive millipede or centipede of some sort, save that this insect was as tall as the Chrysler building and had the face of a human infant.

The images had been taken in Manhattan, where the thing had appeared and laid waste to a good portion of the island before dying on its own. It had been hit heavily with an aerial bombardment from several scrambled squadrons of gunships, bombers, multi-role fighters, specialized attack drones, even a pair of up-armored, AC-class ground assault craft. None of them, not one, had successfully scored a hit on the thing. It had simply collapsed and died on its own.

After demonstrating to the world what a focused AT field at its mass could produce.

"Look at that," Misato said as Gendo eased up next to her. A ten second clip was on loop, showing the thing whipping about as an impossibly bright stream of light issued from the space in front of it's head. Structures the light passed through began to slide apart, like sand castles melting.

"Where's Mom?" Misato asked.

"She's in the Bay," he said. "She wants to see if the Evas have done anything odd in the past few hours."

"So…is this what they're being prepared for?" Misato asked.

"Apparently," Gendo said, rubbing his forehead. "God, I feel bad, now."

"Why?"

"I said something to John Rhodes a week or so ago," he said, "This situation may fall under what I said. I feel guilty saying it, now. How many dead?"

"They're still counting. It's difficult to say, because there are so many missing, as well. Whatever that beam hit…" Misato shrugged. "This is worse than Paris."

Gendo nodded. "I need to get a line with Rhodes soon, let him know that we're willing to help with…with…" He shrugged, feeling strangely helpless. "I don't know. Something."

"We'll take care of it, Dad," Misato said.

"Shinji," he suddenly said, feeling a curious panic rising up. He was in the States…

"Shinji is in Detroit, Dad, remember? He's okay," Misato said, gripping his elbow.

"Yeah. Yeah." This was odd, for him. For the first time in a long time, he felt himself out of his element, and he was uncertain what he should do and how he should go about it. He needed space to breathe, if just for a moment.

"Misato, I'm headed to my office. I need ten minutes to wake up and collect my thoughts. Can you handle things for a bit?"

"I'm on it. Take the time you need, okay?" She leaned over. "You didn't need to come down, you know…we just figured you needed to know sooner rather than later."

"I did, and you did right. I'll take charge of it…just give me a moment, okay?" Misato nodded, watching as Gendo retreated from the bridge. She let the wave of activity wash over her, before riding it back into command.

* * *

"…We appreciate it, we do," Rhodes was saying. "As does the President. The House, on the other hand…"

"Don't talk to me about the House, or the various little lobbying groups that say NERV is trying to take over the world," Gendo said, agitated. He had finished offering his condolences to Rhodes, but now the need to fight this new threat had seized him. There was no room for delicacy here: they needed that carcass, they needed to tear it down to the molecules, find out how it ticked, and figure it out so they could kill the next one that came through. And, for some reason, no one had offered to move it to Japan yet…which was odd…because every time something Other-based popped up on the Americans radar, NERV was the first to know about it. Now, however…

Something had changed.

"Talk to me," Gendo said, leaning towards the video screen, "About the ones who can affect how this thing gets moved."

"Sarif, obviously, but you know that. Why aren't you talking to him about this?" Rhodes asked.

"Because he'll do it without our asking, he knows we have the resources and the know-how to handle this. I'm talking to you, because we need to hit this from two angles."

"I'm not sure you should be talking to _me_ about hitting the US government from two angles…" the American ambassador said, easing back in his chair.

"You are precisely who I need to talk to about this," Gendo said, "As the Ambassador to Japan, you know us. You know NERV, you are the conduit between our two nations. You are on the inside. You need to take the ear of the President and you need to convince him that this thing needs to come to us…like everything else. Please, Rhodes…"

"I'll…I'll see what I can do," Rhodes sighed, tired. Gendo nodded, satisfied.

"Who _is_ taking custody of the body?" Gendo asked, irritated that he didn't know.

"That's not a question," Rhodes chided.

"No, it's not."

"The military is holding on to it, for now. Sarif Industries is trying to get its hands on to it, as you know, but SEELE has made a strong offer for the remains as well."

"SEELE…" Gendo grumbled. Well, it made sense now. Lorenz Kihl was trying to get the body, and that's why NERV had been sidelined for the moment. Another power play. "And your government is seriously considering the offer?"

"Parts of my government are, Gendo, and you can thank the presence of David Sarif in keeping what you have. Kihl is probably the biggest foreign influence in our lobbying community outside of the Israelis, and the main thing that keeps him from topping them is the fact that a lot of our leadership plain doesn't like him."

"That's encouraging," Gendo mumbled.

"It's the best I can offer. Kihl is practically mainland Europe, now. He holds a lot of sway these days."

"He's always held sway, that doesn't mean he's _right_, though," Gendo snapped. "I'm sorry, Rhodes…this is just…" He shook his hand. "Your country has been hurt bad, and I'm beating you up over it."

"I know why, Gendo, so don't apologize," Rhodes said, waving his hand in front of the camera. "This has been a crappy morning for us all. And I agree with you: Kihl is not the man who should be getting that thing. I will speak to the President, and I know he will agree with us. Just know this won't be an easy fight."

* * *

William Strannix dabbed the remains of his cigarillo into the ash tray, watching the last sunlight of the day dipping away behind the low foothills of the Mekong Delta to the west. Vietnam was still a Communist country, on paper. Regardless of the name of the party in power, it was money that did the talking, and it was racing with Thailand and Cambodia for the top spot as the Southeastern Tiger in terms of economic muscle. That, and other factors, made it the ideal spot for men of a certain nature and financial status, and Strannix was one of those individuals.

He heard his vid-phone warble in the study, the tone that of an encrypted call on his scramble line. He cracked his neck and left the deck, entering into the lavish plantation house and entering the room. As he passed the threshold, the door automatically closed, exterior bafflers activated to hide his conversation, and DNA scanning answered the phone for him. The familiar black cube with the I appeared.

"I have a new assignment for you," the distorted voice said.

"I have some time to kill," he replied without preamble. He had done several assignments for this benefactor, and been well-compensated each time. He felt inclined to make time for him when able.

"There's some politicking happening in the States right now," the voice explained. "I'm sure you're aware of what's happened?"

"Gojira or some such damn thing tore up the Big Apple," Strannix drolled. "Before keeling over, of all things. I'm guessing you have an interest in that." That was as far as Strannix would infer. He knew that this individual was connected to SEELE in some way, and he further assumed it was the man known as Lorenz Kihl who was speaking to him. That never needed to be said, of course. No point, and not prudent.

"Some such damn thing, as you say. And yes, it died after it's performance. You know where I'm going with this."

"You want it, and you're having trouble getting it," Strannix said. "Well, I sympathize, believe me, but stealing a carcass the size of Broadway might be out of my league."

"I thought nothing was beyond your ability," the voice said, teasing.

"I'm only human, you know."

"Fair enough. But no worries: it wasn't the specimen I had in mind for you."

"M'kay," Strannix said, lighting another cigarillo. "So…influence. You want me to tip the scales one way or the other, right?"

"Oh, yes," the voice said. "Tell me: do you know who is currently in Detroit?"

"David Sarif?" Strannix offered. "Might be tough. I can do it, of course, but that's getting through a hell of a lot of security. Man is practically the head of a small nation, what with the profit that company pulls. He has the security group to match: Sarif practically has a private military company, all expressly hired to guard his workers and facilities."

"As tempting as it would be to hammer that little nail down, no. He's too valuable to leave standing, at the moment. No, there was someone else I had in mind." The cube was replaced with the image of a Japanese boy, effeminate but somehow familiar. That angular face…

The name sealed it. Shinji Ikari…son of Yui and Gendo Ikari.

"Ah," Strannix said, nodding. "I think I see the line here. Kidnap this kid to make Gendo back off from his claim on the specimen. I'm assuming, of course, that he has a claim?"

"Not as of yet," the voice admitted, "But it's a given that NERV wants this. I'm certain they've made inquiries through unofficial channels, and considering how entwined Sarif Industries and the US military are, it's generally a given that what the Americans get goes to Japan. I want Gendo unclear on this issue."

"So…we'll seize the kid…"

"Or kill him," the voice said. "I prefer him alive, I think he'll provide more leverage that way. If you kill him, however, that'll be just as useful. It will make Gendo's foundation…uneven. If I can't control him, I might as well break him."

"Fair enough," Strannix said, looking over the dossier. "Okay…what's the time-frame on this?"

"Within the week."

"Can do. I'll be on the next flight to Detroit, my team will be assembled there in forty-eight hours."

"I knew I could count on you," the voice said, and with that the line cut.


	38. The Three Magi

**January 24, 2027 - Evangelion Center, Tokyo-3**

* * *

"So it just died," Yui murmured, playing back the video again.

"Oxygen over-saturation, perhaps? Or maybe too little to support it's mass?" Naoko suggested. They were having to play guesswork without samples, but as far as guesswork was concerned, it could have been worse. They had the three top minds concerning the Others working on it.

"I'd say organ failure," a familiar voice called from the computer, "The mass may have been too great to support itself. There's no reason the Others aren't subject to the same mass versus volume rations here." The first time the voice had spoken, it had been painful, but now, it felt like old times again…somewhat.

"If that was the case, _you'd_ be having organ failure, as well," Naoko said pointedly.

"To be fair, I'm suspended in a massive container of liquid right now," Kyoko said dryly. It was amazing how much inflection could be read through the synthesized voice.

"To be fair, you also have an AT Field, so learn your anatomy," Yui mumbled, staring at the creature ripping through Manhattan.

"Touchy," Kyoko said in a sultry tone.

"But apt," Naoko said, ruffling her hair in exhaustion. "The AT Field is supposed to prevent such things from occurring. Does this mean that the same thing could happen to an Eva?"

"No," Yui said flatly, "The AT Field properties an Eva should generate would be godlike. We won't know, of course, until we _test_ it…"

"Was that aimed at me?" Kyoko asked.

"A little bit," Yui said, "I know it's not your fault, but we have to square this away. They're coming out now…the big ones. The Others the Evas were designed to fight, and we can't even get you three lazy ladies out of the paddock."

The door to the lab opened, and Kyoko's link went into standby. A very limited number of people knew what the situation was with Unit-02, and Kyoko was all for keeping the secret. She monitored the room via camera now, waiting for the new arrival to leave.

It was Ritsuko, looking stylish as ever. She absolutely killed the neo-Ren style, her fine features well suited to the angles and ruffles of a Charmand & Gris dress. She wasn't working on staff for NERV…yet. She was, however, in a contract basis, and that contract had some pretty high access levels. Being Naoko Akagi's daughter was one part of that equation, but being brilliant was the other.

"Still no word on the carcass," she said, running a hand underneath her coiled locks. Yui felt old-fashioned in her lab coat and short bob…maybe it was time to go indulge herself a bit. "Misato said Director Ikari has been in his office non-stop. He must be doing some major networking."

"I can imagine," Naoko said, glancing over her shoulder at the looped image of the massive Other. "I hear it's being called the Entity, now."

"The Entity…buhh…" Ritsuko shuddered. "Everything about it is…not right."

"I agree…the face of the infant…" Yui murmured. "It has to be psychologically motivated. That's the surest sign that the Others are deliberate and non-random in their biological components. At least, that's the surest sign to _me_."

Words flickered briefly across the monitor, where only Yui could see them: _All hail the All-Knowing Yui ! ! _She scrunched her nose in irritation. Occasionally, Kyoko could get into serious funks, which was her right, of course, but other times, she was just playful enough to be a pain.

_I'll infect her with a worm…see how much she likes _that! Yui thought.

"I _do_ have some projections on the beam that was generated," Ritsuko said, tapping on her data tablet. "We don't have exact numbers yet, but the energy released in one blast was estimated to be equivalent to the power output of Tokyo-3 for the past two years."

"All from a single AT Field," Naoko murmured. "This is beyond anything we've faced yet."

"We dodged a bullet," Yui murmured, gazing at the monitor. There was no snarky comment for that, Yui noted. Naoko sensed that there was more needed to be said between the three of them, and took the initiative on that.

"Did you run the projections through Magi yet?" Naoko asked.

"Of course," Ritsuko said in a sultry tone. "But I can go do it again, so you two can have your mysterious little Old Lady Time."

"…Old Lady?" Yui asked, genuinely hurt. She wasn't _that_ old…was she? She wasn't even forty yet!

"See what you did?" Naoko said, in mock indignation. "Now she's going to mope all around the Center for who knows how long. Begone with you, young harpy!"

"Harpy? Only because I learned from the best," Ritsuko said with a sly grin, spinning on her heel and walking out. "I owe you a lunch, mom," she added as she passed through the door.

That comment brought a sudden feeling of…disgust to Yui. Not because of what Ritsuko said, but the context was off. Kyoko's voice broke her pensive thoughts.

"That's a face," the computer chimed. "What's the matter?"

"How many people died today?" Yui asked.

"No idea yet," Naoko said, "But it's going to be in the tens of thousands…maybe even hundreds."

"And we're making jokes," Yui mumbled, "When did that happen?"

"Humanity has already been part of several megadeath events in the past decade," Naoko said. "I hate to say we've become used to it, but…"

"Who's to say it's not a means to process?" Kyoko added. "There's nothing wrong with it. We're trying to figure out how to stop the next incursion. That's the best thing we can do for those who died instead of sit and mope about it."

Yui shrugged. That didn't seem right, either, but she understood the sentiment. "Touche," she mumbled. "Which means…"

"A Pilot," Kyoko murmured. The three of them were silent for a bit, clearly unable to think of the next course of action. As was usual, it was Naoko that said the thing they were all thinking, but afraid to actually say.

"Asuka."

"No," Yui and Kyoko said at the same time, but it was a weak protest.

"We have no choice," Naoko said. "I don't want to put Asuka, or Shinji, or any of the girls in danger, but let's face it: people have died in massive numbers up to this point. And today, it was worse. How long until the next attack? And how can we be sure the next…_Entity_ will die like this one? Maybe it sticks around for a bit?" Yui kept her eyes pinched shot, and tried to deduce what Kyoko was thinking.

"Please, no…" the voice mumbled. "I can't…I don't want…please?" Yui didn't want to be the bad guy…but Naoko was right. Today changed things.

"Kyoko," Yui said gently, "We can try with…uh…Rei…or Shinji first. We can try them first, but…Units 00 and 01 are…um…they're wild cards. We _know_ you, and what's more, we _know_ that you would die before you let anything happened to your daughter. Do you see where I'm going with this?" There was silence from the computer, and Yui continued. "If you don't want to, that's fine. I mean, remember: Martin would still have to make the decision, and he would probably veto it. We can try with Rei or Shinji first, if you prefer…" It took all of her to say that, but she meant it. Each word.

"…Martin?" The voice was wistful, and lost. "Uh…do it. Contact them. Make the offer before I change my mind, okay? I just…uh…this feels off."

"It _all_ feels off," Naoko added. "But we'll do it together, like we've always done."

"Yeah," Yui said, standing up, "And when we're together, who…can…st…st…" The world went liquid, and then light flooded all that Yui knew. She then pitched forward onto her face as the light gripped her.

* * *

**Notes from GobHobblin**: Another field week coming up...sigh...see you guys on Friday...


End file.
